Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/400

 How could you, Sheelah, listen to his tales, Or crack such lice as his between your nails?

SHEELAH.

When you with Oonah stood behind a ditch, I peep'd, and saw you kiss the dirty bitch: Dermot, how could you touch these nasty sluts? I almost wish'd this spud were in your guts.

DERMOT.

If Oonah once I kiss'd, forbear to chide; Her aunt's my gossip by my father's side: But, if I ever touch her lips again, May I be doom'd for life to weed in rain!

SHEELAH.

Dermot, I swear, though Tady's locks could hold Ten thousand lice, and every louse was gold; Him on my lap you never more shall see; Or may I lose my weeding-knife — and thee!

DERMOT.

O, could I earn for thee, my lovely lass, A pair of brogues to bear thee dry to mass! But see, where Norah with the sowins comes — Then let us rise, and rest our weary bums.

ON