Now, Willie the Gimlad’s mother
Was keepin’ a shop in Glenmaye,
Theer wasn’ out theer such another
So jesh, an’ with so much to say.
Goy she talked, aw, the words that was arrer,
All tumblerin’ out mighty fas’.
It was—“Grievanagh, la,wha’s the marrer
With Faraghers out Ballanass?
Theer’s trouble in England, again, ya;
An’ Gorry’s new baby hev come;
They’ve gorra sick cow up at Grainya,
An’ Robbie hev gorra soor thumb.”
Well the paason he called in to see her,
Jus’ a sight as he was passin’ the door;
An’ lookin’ to see could he hear
Some newses he’d not h’ard befoor.
“Aw, Jinny” sez he, “how are thou doin’?
Is thee coul any battha at all?
For thee cough it was lek a cow mooin’,
Or the neigh of a hoss in the stall.”
“Aw, it’s battha an’ thank ye”, sez Jinny,
Take a sate, thou’ll be weary, it’s like;
An’ how is the missus an’ Winnie?
D’ye think that the miners will strike?”
“My family are well an’ I thank ye.”
The paason, he sez, mos’ polite;
“I was talkin’ to Moore the Banker
An’ he said they’d come out tonight
If their wages weren’t raised.” “Their wages?”
Cries Jinny, her eyes open wide,
“The missus an’ Winnie—?” “Thou’re tajus;
The miners, I’m manin’”, he cried.
“I’ll be havin’ an ounce of tombarca,
Me pouch now is gerrin’ quite low;
Aw, theer’s trouble for us in Malarca,
An’ in Irelan’ the taties won’t grow.”
So Jin an’ the paason got talkin’
Of this thing an’ that, an’ the res’,
An’ the paason gorrup to start walkin’,
An’ to thump with his fis’ on his ches’.
An’ Jinny was grippin’ the counter,
Not l’aving the paason his say;
Though his torrent of speech nearly drown’t her,
She determined she woudn’t give way.
Now her toe it was hurtin’ her shockin’,
Her boots they were middlin’ tight;
An’ her bunion was shootin’ an’ rockin’
As if it was hevin’ a fight.
When the paason gor’ on to Jehovah,
His arms he was flingin’ out wide,
An’ a seven poun’ weight got knocked over,
An’ it rolled an’ fell over the side;
An’ it dropped on her toe lek a hammer
With a thump that shook winder an’ floor,
While the paason was talkin’ of Tommer,
An’ how he got lost at the Dhoor.
He purra big tear in his jersey
An’ Jinny was sayin’, “Jus’ so”
The Lord will hev pity an’ marcy —–
Aw me toe! Damn, me toe! Danmn me toe!’