WITH THANKS TO G. K. CHESTERTON

Their hearts are bowed with sorrow,
They love to wail and croon;
They shed big tears when they sigh, " Machree, "
Floods when they sob, " Aroon! "

For the Young Gaels of Ireland
Are the lads that drive me mad;
For half their words need foot-notes,
And half their rhymes are bad.