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 | A thousand more verses |  |
Then he slept for a minut'—then raised up and cried,
“Bring the fiddle here quick! for she seems at my side!”
An' he snatched up the bow, and upon my dear word,
He played “Rory O'More” schwate as ever you heard!
And he sunk—wid a smile of affection and pride,
And then followed the Doc's last prescription, an' died.
“Bring the fiddle here quick! for she seems at my side!”
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He played “Rory O'More” schwate as ever you heard!
And he sunk—wid a smile of affection and pride,
And then followed the Doc's last prescription, an' died.
| A thousand more verses | |