"In regard of its _name_--why, in throth, I'm consarned
"To differ on this point so much with the Larned,
"Who call it a '_Morthimer_,' whereas the craythur
"Is plainly a 'Murthagh,' by name and by nathur."
This is how I'd have towld them the righst of it all.
Had _I_ been their showman at Exether Hail--
Not forgettin' that other great wondher of Airin
(Of the owld bitther breed which they call Prosbetairin),
The famed Daddy Coke--who, by gor, I'd have shown 'em
As proof how such bastes may be tamed, when you've thrown 'em
A good frindly sop of the rale _Raigin Donem_.[3]
But throth, I've no laisure just now, Judy dear,
For anything, barrin' our own doings here,
And the cursin' and dammin' and thund'rin like mad,
We Papists, God help us, from Murthagh have had.
He says we're all murtherers--divil a bit less--
And that even our priests, when we go to confess,
Give us lessons in murthering and wish us success!
When axed how he daared, by tongue or by pen,
To belie, in this way, seven millions of men,
Faith, he said'twas all towld him by Docthor Den![4]
"And who the divil's _he_?" was the question that flew
From Chrishtian to Chrishtian--but not a sowl knew.
While on went Murthagh, in iligant style,
Blasphaming us Cath'lics all the while,
As a pack of desaivers, parjurers, villains,
All the whole kit of the aforesaid millions;--
Yourself, dear Judy, as well as the rest,
And the innocent craythur that's at your breast,
All rogues together, in word and deed,
Owld Den our insthructor and Sin our creed!
When axed for his proofs again and again,
Divil an answer he'd give but Docthor Den.
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