Be aisy Pat! Don’t lave like that! Shure home was ne’er like this, man! ’Tis little use to quit the booze Whin things have gone amiss, man. ’Twill help us bear our bit iv care Whin troubles lie before us. Come, sit ye down — lave off that frown, An’ dhrink the Doch-an-doris. Yarrowie plain is wantin’ rain, And Boolie’s dhry as tinder; The grass along the billabong Is shrivelled to a cinder. But what’s the odds? Our ways ain’t God’s, An’ fate’s not always for us; So let it pass. Fill up your glass! We’ll have the Doch-an-doris. We’ve seen the time whin crops were prime, An’ prices used to suit us; Nor lacked a frind to help us spind An’ condescind to loot us; But now it’s o’er there’s little more Than mortgagees to bore us, But aise your mind. Put care behind, An’ dhrink the Doch-an-doris. Shure who can say a brighter day Will be so long in comin’? As good a one as thim that’s done An’ times agin be hummin’? Then never mind though fate’s unkind, An’ former frinds ignore us, I’m ownin’ yet a bob to wet — Let’s have the Doch-an-doris ! Yes, I’ll allow I’m thinkin’ now We might have thravelled mildly; But faith, I’m sure if we had moore We’d spind it just as wildly. So lave it go. We niver know What fortunes lie before us; But shine or rain — have one more drain! The last — the Doch-an-doris!