An' so he was comin' over with
th' babby, an' bein' mother an' father to it. He'd rock it be th' hour
on his knees, an' talk nonsense to it, an' sing it songs, 'Aha, 'twas
there I met a maiden,' an' 'Th' Wicklow Mountaineer,' an' 'Th' Rambler
fr'm Clare,' an' 'O'Donnel Aboo,' croonin' thim in th' little babby's
ears, an' payin' no attintion to th' poorin' thunder above his head,
day an' night, day an' night, poor soul. An' th' babby cryin' out his
heart, an' him settin' there with his eyes as red as his hair, an'
makin' no kick, poor soul.
"But wan day th' ship settled down steady, an' ragin' stummicks with
it; an' th' Roscommon man shakes himself, an' says, 'To 'ell with th'
Prince iv Wales an' th' Dook iv Edinboroo,' an' goes out. An' near all
th' steerage followed; f'r th' storm had done its worst, an' gone on
to throuble those that come afther, an' may th' divvle go with it.
'Twill be rest f'r that little Tipp'rary man; f'r th' waves was
r-runnin' low an' peaceful, an' th' babby have sthopped cryin'.
"He had been settin' on a stool, but he come over to me.
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