"Can you play Croppies Lie Down?"

"I cannot, your hanner, my fingers never learnt to play such a
blackguard tune; but if you wish to hear Croppies Get Up I can
oblige ye."

"You are a Roman Catholic, I suppose?"

"I am not, your hanner - I am a Catholic to the back-bone, just
like my father before me. Come, your hanner, shall I play ye
Croppies Get Up?"

"No," said I; "it's a tune that doesn't please my ears. If,
however, you choose to play Croppies Lie Down, I'll give you a
shilling."

"Your hanner will give me a shilling?"

"Yes," said I; "if you play Croppies Lie Down; but you know you
cannot play it, your fingers never learned the tune."

"They never did, your hanner; but they have heard it played of ould
by the blackguard Orange fiddlers of Dublin on the first of July,
when the Protestant boys used to walk round Willie's statue on
College Green - so if your hanner gives me the shilling, they may
perhaps bring out something like it."

"Very good," said I; "begin!"

"But, your hanner, what shall we do for the words? though my