THK PRIKST AXIi TIIK VOTER. "J I 



" You're a haythen haste," the Father said, " I hope you'll 



be forgiven, 

 But there's evil times in store for ye, yell never go to 



heaven/' 



Then the Priest he looked again and saw me wink the other 



eye, 

 " It's yourself that's laughin', Larry, faix I think you'd 



better cry, 

 For the man who will not vote me way I'll turn into a rat, 

 So just think before ye vex me, just be careful what ye're at. 



" It's the saints that help me, Larry, at election times, ye 



see, 

 An' its funny things they do sometimes to save the ould 



country." 

 " By the powers, I'm glad ye've tould me, Father Walsh,'' 



I said to him, 

 " There's an ould brown cat my wife has got at home, we 



call him Jim, 



"An' it's rats he's mighty partial to, I'll shut him up, bedad, 

 For I'd not like Jim to eat me, arrah now, that would be 



bad." 

 " Ye're an unbclavin' sinner," said the Priest, " that's what 



ye are, 

 Tis the saints that kill bad men like you, now don't ye go 



too far." 



