Explore "Dan o'Sullivan" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dan O'Sullivan: It's your / Lips have kissed "The Blarney," sure! -- / To be trillin' praise av me, / Dhrippin' swhate wid poethry! -- / Not that I'd not have ye sing -- / Don't lave off for anything -- / Jusht be aisy whilst the fit / Av me head shwells up to it!
Dade and thrue, I'm not the man, / Whilst yer singin', loike ye can, / To cry shtop because ye've blesht / My songs more than all the resht: -- / I'll not be the b'y to ax / Any shtar to wane or wax, / Or ax any clock that's woun' / To run up inshtid av down!
Whist yez! Dan O'Sullivan! -- / Him that made the Irishman / Mixt the birds in wid the dough, / And the dew and mistletoe / Wid the whusky in the quare / Muggs av us -- and here we air, / Three parts right, and three parts wrong, / Shpiked with beauty, wit and song!