“Fufty years ago a swan belongin’ to the Frinch fairies laid a settin’ of eggs on that same island, an’ thin comes along a German swan, an’ what does the impident craythure do but set herself down on the eggs laid be the Frinch swan an’ hatched thim. Afther the hatchin’ the German min claimed the young ones, but the Frinchmen pray-imp-thurribly daymanded thim back, d’ye mind. An’ the German min dayfied thim, d’ye see. So, of course, the trouble started. For fufty years it has been growin’, an’ before fightin’, as a last raysort, they sint for me.
“Well, I saw at once that at the bottom of all was the ould, ould question, which has been disthurbin’ the worruld an’ dhrivin’ people crazy for three thousand years.”
“I know,” says Darby, scornful, “’twas whither the hin that laid the egg or the hin that hatched the egg is the mother of the young chicken.”
“An’ nothin’ else but that!” cried the King, surprised. “Now, what d’ye think I daycided?” he says.
Now, yer honour, I’ll always blame Darby for not listening to the King’s daycision, bekase ’tis a matther
