An Irishman traveling, though not for delight,
Arrived in a city one cold winter's night.
Found the landlord and servants in bed at the inn.
While standing without he was drench'd to the skin.
He grop'd for the knocker, no knocker was found,
Then turning his head accidentally round,
He saw, so he thought, by the lamp's feeble ray,
The object he search'd for right over the way.
The knocker he grasp'd, and so loud was the roar
It seem'd like a sledge breaking open the door;
The street, far and wide, was awoke by the clang,
And sounded aloud with the Irishman's bang,
The wife scream'd aloud, and the husband appears
At the window, his shoulders shrugg'd up to his ears.
"So ho! honest friend, pray what is the matter,
That at this time of night you should make such a clatter?"
"Go to bed! go to bed!" says Pat, "my dear honey
I am not a robber to ask for your money;
I borrow'd your knocker before it was day,
To waken the landlord right over the way."
Selections from Dick's Irish Dialect Recitations, edited by Wm. B. Dick, New York, Dick & Fitzgerald, Publishers 1879
Graphics copyright 1997 Kathleen A. O'Connell