English poem
Shwate Kittie Kehoe
by James Clarence Harvey (1859–1917)
Can ye tell, I do' know. Phwat the mischief's about ye that bothers me so? For there's that in yer eye. That I wish I may die If it doesn't pursue me wherever I go. Och hone! Shwate Kitty Kehoe.
It's a livin' disgrace That yer shwate purty face Should be dhrivin' me sinses all over the place! I go this way an' that, Loike a man fur a hat, Wid the wind up an alley-way, runnin' a race. Och hone! Shwate Kittie Kehoe.
Oh! Faith, but I'm sad, Fur to know that I'm mad, That only intinsifies all that is bad; But phwat can I do, Whin a shwate smile from you Turns everythin' rosy and makes me sowl glad? Och hone! Shwate Kittie Kehoe.
Shwate Kittie Kehoe, I beg of ye, go To the outermost inds of the earth, I do' know; If ye'll only do this, Jist lave me wan kiss, An' I'll die whin yer sthartin', Shwate Kittie Kehoe. Och hone! Och hone! Shwate Kittie Kehoe.