The Golden Treasury of Irish Songs & Lyrics

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374 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
Don't talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity Famous forever at Greek and Latinity, Faix ! and the divils and all at Divinity — Father O'Flynn 'd make hares of them all! Come, I vinture to give you my word, Niver the likes of his logic was heard, Down from mythology Into thayology, Troth ! and conchology if he'd the call.
Och ! Father O'Flynn, you've the wonderful way
wid you, All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you, All the young childer are wild for to play wid you, You've such a way wid you, Father avick ! Still, for all you've so gentle a soul, Gad, you've your flock in the grandest control, Checking the crazy ones, Coaxin' onaisy ones, Liftin' the lazy ones on wid the stick.
And though quite avoidin' all foolish frivolity Still, at all seasons of innocent jollity, Where was the play-boy could claim an equality At comicality, Father, wid you ?
Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest, Till this remark set him off wid the rest: " Is it lave gaiety All to the laity ? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too ? "