Cead Mille Failthe.

(A Klassickal Pome.)
In anshint Greeshin climes,
When Homer rote his rimes,
An' hayros deeds were cronicled by Pindar,
Grate Herculis appeared,
Who niver was afeared.
To stand up for his couathry an' defind her;

That Thaiban stont an' bould,
When an infant, so Tm tould,
Two ugly raptile sarpints sly did slay boys,
But our Hercu is who comes,
Sthrangles cants, an' shams an' hums,
He's as welkira as the purty flowers o' May, boys.

King Thespios, the proud,
Had a lion roarin' loud,
On the summit o' Mount Citheron so steep, sure;
But Herculis, be gob,
Hit the baiste upon the nob,
An' soon he lift him lion down asleep, sure;
Rut be the mortial powers,
This Herculis of ours,
Is braver thin his namesake in his way, boys;
He has proved his worth. I'll swear,
On the Curragh o' Kildare,
He's as welkim as the purty flowers o' May, boys.

Whin Eurysthaeus, base,
Called the hayro to his face.
An' sint him for to work at common labours,
The Oracle said Go,
Aim yer livin for ye know,
Ipon me sowl ye'll be a god, be jabers
(A haythin god's a myth)
But our Herculis has pith.
He's not a vessel made av common clay, boys,
Though the Maw worms may him ban,
Faix he's ivery inch a man,
He's as welkim as the purty flowers o' May, boys.

The hydra an the hind The Thaiban boy did find—
The Carni-vorus birds in ould Arcady,
Wor pigeons, I'll be bound.
Compared wid hawks around
Our coorses, workin horsey thricks so shady,
But now their day is done,
For our races will be run
In rale ould Irish fashion fair an gay, boys.
On the turf an' on the tan.
We will have an honest man,
He's as welkim as the purty flowers o' May, boys.

Ould Herculis did bring
To Augeus the king
A broom to sweep the dirty monarch's stable,
Our Augean stable too
Wants a broom, 'twixt me an' you
To sweep it out our Herculis is able;
The Greeshin boy of yore
Heard only bullocks roar,
Our Herculis will often hear a bray, boys
But stout hearts leal an' thrue Will shout "Hurroo, hurroo,
He's as welkim as the purty flowers o' May, boys.