  Phwat's thot yer afther sayin'— Oi "don't look meself at all?" Och, murder! sure ye've guessed it. Whist! Oi'm not meself at all, But another man entoirly, An' Oi'd bether tell ye trooly How ut iz Oi'm but purtendin' That Oi'm Mr. Pat O'Dooley. Tim Finnegan an' me, sor, Waz a-fightin ov the blacks In hathen foreign parts, sor, An' yer pardon Oi would ax If Oi mention thot the customs In them parts iz free an' aisy, An' the costooms—bein' mostly beads— Iz airy-loike an' braizy. An' they captured me an' Tim; An' they marched us back in triumph To their village—me an' him; An' they didn't trate us badly, As Oi'm not above confessin', Tho' their manners—as Oi said before— An' customs, waz disthressin'. So Oi set meself to teachin' The King's daughter to behave As a perfect lady should do; An' Oi taught the King to shave; An' Oi added to the lady's Scanty costoom by the prisent Ov a waistcoat, which she thanked me for, A-smilin' moighty plisent. An' she fell in love with me, Which was awkward for all parties, As you prisently will see; For on wan noight, when the village Waz all quiet-loike an' slapin', The King's daughter to the hut, phwere Tim an' me lay, came a-crapin'. An' she whispered in my ear, sor: "Get up quick, an' come this way, Oi'll assist ye in escapin', If ye'll do just phwat Oi say." An' she led me by the hand, sor; It waz dark, the rain was pourin' An' we safely passed the huts, sor, Phwere the sintrys waz a snorin' Through all the blessid noight, An' waz many miles away, sor, Before the day was loight. Then the lady saw my features, An' she stopped an' started cryin', For she found that I waz Tim instead Ov me, which waz most tryin'. In the hurry an' the scurry Ov the darkness, don't yez see, She had made a big mistake, An' rescued him instead ov me— An' to me it waz confusin' An' most hard ov realizin'; For to find yerself another person, Sor, iz most surprisin'. An' pwhen the lady left me, An' Oi'd got down to the shore An' found a ship to take me home, Oi puzzled more an' more, For, ov course, the woife an' family Ov Finnegan's was moine, sor, Tho' Oi didn't know the wan ov 'em By hook, nor crook, nor soign, sor. They belonged to me no doubt, So directly Oi had landed Oi began to look about. Tim Finnegan had told me That he lived up in Killarn'y, An' Oi found meself that far, somehow, By carnying an' blarney. An' Oi found me woife an' family— But, ach! upon my loife Oi waz greatly disappointed In my family an' woife, For my woife was not a beauty, An' her temper wazn't cheerin' While the family—onkindly— At their father took to jeerin'. "Than Oi'll iver be as Tim. Bedad! Oi'd better be meself An' lave off bein' him. Oi won't stay here in Killarn'y, Phwere they trate poor Tim so coolly, But purtend to be meself agin In dear old Ballyhooley.' So Oi came to Ballyhooley, An' Oi've niver told before To anyone the story Oi've been tellin' to ye, sor, An' it, all ov it, occurred, sor, Just exactly as Oi state it, Though, ov course, ye'll understand, sor, Oi don't wish ye to repate it.
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