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A Dialogue between Teague an Irish Priest and the Arch-bishop of Paris, on the taking of Tournay, and the State of the French affairs. The Words made to an Irish Tune.
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[Music ] Teague.
HARK Lewis groans, good Fador wat ailsh him, None of our loud Te-Deums availsh him; Creesh shave my Showl by Trumpets and Drumming, The Raison's plain now great Marlborough is coming: Yough hone o hone.
Bishop.
Leave off your howle you seemple Bogtrotter,
Vat can me do in tings of dis nature;
Get you to Mass and dose matters handle,
To Curse him back vid your bell Book and Candle:
Ah Fernie bleiw.
