Now, speaking of ladies, a tale I’ve been told,
Of how Sammy and Gilmore and Pollin were sold,
With officers swanky their sweethearts now walk,
But the three that I’ve named do nothing but talk,
They say what they’ll do if they once get the chance,
But the ladies concerned don’t deign them a glance,
Tis a pity to rupture the sweet harmonie,
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down the sea.