  As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher down tumbled, And all the sweet buttermilk watered the plain. O! what shall I do now! 'Twas looking at you, now; Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again; 'Twas the pride of my dairy! O Barney O'Cleary, You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine! I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her, That such a misfortune should give her such pain; A kiss then I gave her, and ere I did leave her, She vowed for such pleasure she'd break it again. 'Twas haymaking season—I can't tell the reason— Misfortunes will never come single 'tis plain; For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine. |
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