Sure The Shovel And Tongs To Each

I'll Seek A Four Leaved Shamrock In All Thy Fairy Dells, And If I Find The Charmed Leaves, Oh, How I'll Weave My Spells!

Reproof On Her Lip, But A Smile In Her Eye.

Sure My Love Is All Crostlike A Bud In The Frostand There's No Use At All In My Going To Bed,for 't Is Dhrames And Not Slape That Comes Into My Head!

Sure The Shovel And Tongs To Each Other Belongs.

Where's The Snow That Fell The Year That's Fled--where's The Snow?