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 | A thousand more verses |  |
An' he took off the resin by pounds: an' I said,
“Was the music used up when they made the man's head?”
And he'd ask me o'er often when through for the night,
“Don't you think, now, Maroney, I'm gettin' it right?”
An' I says ivery time—wid the truth to commune—
“It might slip in as part of a Chinaman's tune,
But I think if poor Rory that racket should hear,
He would turn in his grave an' then shtop up his ear.”
“Was the music used up when they made the man's head?”
And he'd ask me o'er often when through for the night,
“Don't you think, now, Maroney, I'm gettin' it right?”
An' I says ivery time—wid the truth to commune—
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But I think if poor Rory that racket should hear,
He would turn in his grave an' then shtop up his ear.”
| A thousand more verses | |