I.

At sixteen years old you could get little good of me;
Then I saw Norah — who soon understood of me
I was in love — but myself, for the blood of me,
Could not tell what I did ail.
'Twas, dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Och, blood and ouns! what can the matter be?
Och, Gramachree! what can the matter be?
Bothered from head to the tail!

II.

I went to confess me to Father O'Flannagan;
Told him my case — made an end — then began again;
Father, says I, make me soon my own man again,
If you find out what I ail.
Dear, dear! says he, what can the matter be?
Och, blood and ouns! can't you tell what the matter be?
Both cried out, what can the matter be?
Bothered from head to the tail!

III.

Soon I fell sick — I did bellow and curse again;
Norah took pity to see me at nurse again,
Gave me a kiss; och, zounds! that threw me worse again!
Well she knew what I did ail.
But dear, dear! says she, what can the matter be?
Och, blood and ouns! my lass, what can the matter be?
Both cried out what can the matter be?
Bothered from head to the tail.

IV.

'Tis long ago now since I left Tipperary —
How strange, growing older, our nature should vary!
All symptoms are gone of my ancient quandary,
I cannot tell now what I ail.
Dear, dear! &c.