An' Mother kissin' him k-slap! An' Marg'et-- she chips in to drap The ruther peert remark to me--: "That 'grace' o' yourn," she says, "won't 'gee'-- This hain't no 'New Year's feast,'" says she--, "This is a' Infair-Dinner, Pap!" An' so it was--! Be'n married fer Purt' nigh a week--! 'Twas Marg'et planned The whole thing fer 'em, through an' through. I'm rickonciled; an' understand, I take things jes as they occur--, Ef Marg'et liked Tomps, Tomps 'ud do--! But I-says-I, a-holt his hand--, "I'm glad you didn't marry Her-- 'Cause Marg'et's my guardeen-- yes-sir--! An' S'repty's good enough fer you!" _The Town Karnteel_ The Town Karnteel--! It's who'll reveal Its praises jushtifiable? For who can sing av anything So lovely and reliable? Whin Summer, Spring, or Winter lies From Malin's Head to Tipperary, There's no such town for interprise Bechuxt Youghal and Londonderry! There's not its likes in Ireland-- For twic't the week, be gorries! They're playing jigs upon the band, And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and-- And racing, wid wheelborries! Kanteel-- it's there, like any fair, The purty gurrls is plinty, sure--! And man-alive! At forty-five The leg's av me air twinty, sure! I lave me cares, and hoein' too, Behint me, as is sinsible, And it's Karnteel I'm goin' to, To cilebrate in principle! For there's the town av all the land! And twic't the week, be-gorries! They're playing jigs upon the band, And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and-- And racing, wid wheelborries! And whilst I feel for owld Karnteel That I've no phrases glorious, It stands above the need av love That boasts in voice uproarious--! Lave that for Cork, and Dublin too, And Armagh and Killarney thin--, And Karnteel won't be troublin' you Wid any jilous blarney, thin! For there's the town av all the land Where twic't the week, be-gorries! They're playing jigs upon the band, And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and-- And racing, wid wheelborries! _Regardin' Terry Hut_ Sence I tuk holt o' Gibbses' Churn And be'n a-handlin' the concern, I've travelled round the grand old State Of Indiany, lots, o' late--! I've canvassed Crawferdsville and sweat Around the town o' Layfayette; I've saw a many a County-seat I ust to think was hard to beat: At constant dreenage and expense I've worked Greencastle and Vincennes-- Drapped out o' Putnam into Clay, Owen, and on down thataway Plum into Knox, on the back-track Fer home ag'in-- and glad I'm back--! I've saw these towns, as I say-- but They's none 'at beats old Terry Hut!