 | Bog-land Studies |  |
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III
Howsomever, a sthranger or no, ould Sir Maurice was plased an' content,An' they settled to have a great weddin' down here at the endin' o' Lent;
An' I mind the white sloe-flower was meltin' from off the black hedges like hail
In the sunshine, whin back to the Castle the family came wid a dale
O' grand company, frinds an' relations; the house was as full as a fair.
But, a couple o' days to the weddin', Kate Doyle, that's in service up there,
She run in wid a message to say they'd a kitchen- maid tuk to her bed
Wid the awfulest toothache at all, an' her cheek swelled the size of her head;
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So I slipped up that night afther supper, as proud o' me luck as could be.
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