FATHER O’FLYNN.

Of priests we can offer a charmin’ variety, Far renown’d for larnin’ and piety; Still, I’d advance ye without impropriety, Father O’Flynn is the flow’r of them all. Here’s a health to you, Father O’Flynn, Slainthe, and slainthe, and slainthe agin; Powerfullest preacher, and tenderest teacher, And kindliest creature in ould Donegal. Don’t talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity, Famous for ever at Greek and Latinity, Faix, and the divil and all at Divinity, Father O’Flynn ’d make hares of them all! Come, I venture to give ye my word, Never the likes of his logic was heard, Down from Mythology into Thayology, Troth! and Conchology, if he’d the call. Och! Father O’Flynn, you’ve a wonderful way wid you, All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you, All the young childer are wild for to play wid you, You’ve such a way wid you, Father avick! Still for all you’ve so gentle a soul, Gad, you’ve your flock in the grandest control; Checking the crazy ones, coaxing onaisy ones, Lifting the lazy ones on with a stick. And though quite avoidin’ all foolish frivolity, Still, at all seasons of innocent jollity, Where was the play-boy could claim an equality At comicality, Father, wid you? Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest, Till this remark set him off wid the rest: “Is it lave gaiety all to the laity? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too!” Alfred Perceval Graves.