HISTORY OF THE KILDARE HUNT 



But as for the stranger, his feats in the field 

 To his feats at the table unspeakably yield; 

 In drinking, in laughing, in frolic and jest 

 He seems but the sun who gives light to the rest. 



But at length they have done 



And drop off one by one 

 From their chairs, overcome by the claret and fun; 



At a quarter to four 



All lie stretched on the floor 

 Enjoying in chorus a mighty fine snore. 

 While still to the claret like gay fellows stick 

 The warm-hearted squire and his jolly friend Nick. 



There's a cooper of wine by Tom Conolly's chair, 

 And he stoops for a bottle — At what does he stare? 



" Can it be? Oh, no doubt 



My fine lad, you're found out. 

 There's a cloven foot plainly as eye can behold 



Cut your stick, 



Master Nick, 



If I may make so bold 



'Pon my life what a jest 



To have you for my guest 

 You toping by dozens Lafitte's very best. 

 Be off, Sir, you've drunk of my wine to satiety." 

 " No, thank you," says Nick, " Tom, I like your 

 society." 



Tom rings for the flunkies, they enter — What now? 

 He looks at old Nick with a very dark brow 



34 



