Page:Darby O'Gill and the Good People by Herminie Templeton Kavanagh (1903).djvu/303

Rh

“That’s what I call rale poethry,” says Darby.

“There’s no foiner,” says the King, standing up on the sate, his face beaming.

“The next varse’ll make yez cry salt tears,” says Shaun. An’ he sang very affectin’:

“Faith, ’tis a foine, pittiful song,” says Darby, “an’ I’d give a great dale if I only had it,” says he.

“Musha, who knows; maybe ye can get it,” says the ould King, with a wink. “Ye may daymand the favours of the three wishes for bringing her what yer bringin’,” he whuspered. “Shaun!” he says, out loud, “do ye think the banshee’ll give that song for the bringing back of the lost comb, I dunno?”

“I dunno meself,” says the head, jubious. Rh