For shure is it time, in prose or in rhyme,
That somebody spoke up, who dar'.
ULYSSES awake! for Liberty's sake,
It's braykin our hearts you are.
Arrah what do you mane at all?

Och, wirrasthrue vo! it's bitther to know
The work that goes an in your name;
The murdher an' ruin, that others are doin'
Whilst you have to showlder the shame!
The grief that is ours, whin you, by the Pow'rs,
Seem traytin it all like a joke,
Like NAYRO, the thief, whin Room was in grief,
That fiddled away in the smoke!
Arrah what do you mane at all?

Och, wake up, ochone! Your innimies groan
The words that cut deep as a sword:
"He's greedy for goold, an by its slaves rooled
ULYSSES is false to his word.
See poor Cuba there, all tatthered and bare;
For months at his doore she has stud;
Not a word he replies to her sobs or her sighs,
Nor cares for her tears or her blood!
Arrah what does he mane at all?"

Musha, what's that you say? "Sind the ould fool away."
I'm disturbin' your rest wid my prate;
There's Minister FISH, to consult if I wish,
Who attinds to all matthers of state.