O'Rourke's jolly boys
Ne'er dreamt of the matter,
Till, roused by the noise,
And musical clatter,
They bounce from their nest,
No longer will tarry,
They rise ready drest,
Without one Ave-Mary.
They dance in a round,
Cutting capers and ramping;
A mercy the ground
Did not burst with their stamping.
The floor is all wet
With leaps and with jumps,
While the water and sweat
Splish-splash in their pumps.
Bless you late and early,
Laughlin O'Enagin![3]
But, my hand,[4] you dance rarely.
Margery Grinagin.[5]
Bring straw for our bed,
Shake it down to the feet,
Then over us spread
The winnowing sheet.
To show I don't flinch,
Fill the bowl up again:
Then give us a pinch
Of your sneezing, a Yean.[6]
Good lord! what a sight,
After all their good cheer,
For people to fight
In the midst of their beer!
They rise from their feast,
And hot are their brains,
A cubit at least
The length of their skeans.[7]
What stabs and what cuts,
What clattering of sticks;
What strokes on the guts,
What bastings and kicks!
With cudgels of oak,
Well harden'd in flame,
A hundred heads broke,
A hundred struck lame.
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