Convarted.

Hurroo, me boys, the Pasthor's soap,
Has washed me clear av Priest an' Pope;
Me sowl is saved, an' soon I hope,
Whin once I'm fairly started,
To gather all the Pagans in
(Likewise to gather in the tin),
Me task is now lost sowls to win,
Begorra, I'm convarted.

I've got me eye on one or two—
Jim Hogan an' Jack Donohoo—
Who're ready to imbrace the thrue
Religion, for I've darted
The gospel arrows, sharp an' keen
(Tipp'd wid a little pious spleen),
Against the hosts o' Rome, I ween—
Begorra, I'm convarted.

Dan Houlihan has swore to me,
He'll jine us for a dacint fee,
For faix the boy begins to see
How pure and tindher-hearted
The Pasthor is: thin Mick Muldoon
Thinks that he'll get convarted soon;
Bill Fagan's readin' thracts, aroon;
They'll all be soon convarted.

Pat Finnigan has pawned bis baids;
He's tould the Dorans an' McQuaids
He'll go where'er the Pasthor laids;
An' Tim O'Brien's disartin'
His idles, 'long wid Barney Burke;
(I'm proud to see thim go to work)
Thin Phil McShane an' Jack MeGurk,
Begorra, are convarted.

Con Flannagin an' Darbey Shay
Have pitched their prayer-books in the say,
An' Rody Regan's larned to pray
That Zion may be started
Upon Rome's ruins, d'ye see,
Be me an' Pasthor Shinikee;
We'll save the boys, avick raachree,
We'll get them all convarted.

Paddy Murphy.