| 25 | ||
|---|---|---|
| you presents, won't we, fenians? And il isn't our spittle we'll stint | 1 | |
| you of, is it, druids? Not shabbty little imagettes, pennydirts and | 2 | |
| dodgemyeyes you buy in the soottee stores. But offerings of the | 3 | |
| field. Mieliodories, that Doctor Faherty, the madison man, | 4 | |
| taught to gooden you. Poppypap's a passport out. And honey is | 5 | |
| the holiest thing ever was, hive, comb and earwax, the food for | 6 | |
| glory, (mind you keep the pot or your nectar cup may yield too | 7 | |
| light !) and some goat's milk, sir, like the maid used to bring you. | 8 | |
| Your fame is spreading like Basilico's ointment since the Fintan | 9 | |
| Lalors piped you overborder and there's whole households be- | 10 | |
| yond the Bothnians and they calling names after you. The men- | 11 | |
| here's always talking of you sitting around on the pig's cheeks | 12 | |
| under the sacred rooftree, over the bowls of memory where every | 13 | |
| hollow holds a hallow, with a pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon | 14 | |
| House. And admiring to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat | 15 | |
| on high is the mark of your manument. All the toethpicks ever | 16 | |
| Eirenesians chewed on are chips chepped from that battery | 17 | |
| block. If you were bowed and soild and letdown itself from the | 18 | |
| oner of the load it was that paddyplanters might pack up plenty and | 19 | |
| when you were undone in every point fore the laps of goddesses | 20 | |
| you showed our labourlasses how to free was easy. The game old | 21 | |
| Gunne, they do be saying, (skull !) that was a planter for you, a | 22 | |
| spicer of them all. Begog but he was, the G.O.G! He's dudd- | 23 | |
| andgunne now and we're apter finding the sores of his sedeq | 24 | |
| but peace to his great limbs, the buddhoch, with the last league | 25 | |
| long rest of him, while the millioncandled eye of Tuskar sweeps | 26 | |
| the Moylean Main ! There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes | 27 | |
| and Brettland, no, nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No, | 28 | |
| nor a king nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or hung king. | 29 | |
| That you could fell an elmstree twelve urchins couldn't ring | 30 | |
| round and hoist high the stone that Liam failed. Who but a Mac- | 31 | |
| cullaghmore the reise of our fortunes and the faunayman at the | 32 | |
| funeral to compass our cause? If you was hogglebully itself and | 33 | |
| most frifty like you was taken waters still what all where was | 34 | |
| your like to lay the cable or who was the batter could better | 35 | |
| Your Grace? Mick Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to | 36 |
*** Reading-Group – Germany / Rhein/Main / Hochtaunus ***