But now, Judy, comes the quare part of the case;
And, in throth, it's the only drawback on my place.
'Twas Murthagh's ill luck to be crost, as you know,
With an awkward mishfortune some short time ago;
That's to say, he turned Protestant--_why_, I can'tlarn;
But, of coorse, he knew best, an' it's not _my_ consarn.
All I know is, we both were good Catholics, at nurse,
And myself am so still--nayther better not worse.
Well, our bargain was all right and tight in a jiffy,
And lads more contint never yet left, the Liffey,
When Murthagh--or Morthimer, as he's _now_ chrishened,
His _name_ being convarted, at laist, if _he_ isn't--
Lookin' sly at me (faith, 'twas divartin' to see)
"_Of coorse_, you're a Protestant, Larry," says he.
Upon which says myself, wid a wink just as shly,
"Is't a Protestant?--oh yes, _I am_, sir," says I;--
And there the chat ended, and divil a more word
Controvarsial between us has since then occurred.
What Murthagh could mane, and, in troth, Judy dear,
What _I myself_ meant, doesn'tseem mighty clear;
But the truth is, tho' still for the Owld Light a stickler,
I was just then too shtarved to be over partic'lar:--
And, God knows, between us, a comic'ler pair
Of twin Protestants couldn't be seen _any_ where.
Next Tuesday (as towld in the play-bills I mintioned,
Addrest to the loyal and godly intintioned,)
His Riverence, my master, comes forward to preach,--
Myself doesn'tknow whether sarmon or speech,
But it's all one to him, he's a dead hand at each;
Like us Paddys in gin'ral, whose skill in orations
Quite bothers the blarney of all other nations.
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