James Joyce
The Ballad of Persse O’Reilly
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall

Of the Magazine Wall
Hump, helmet and all?

He was one time our King of the Castle
Now he's kicked about like a rotten old parsnip
And from Green street he'll be sent by order of His Worship
To the penal jail of Mountjoy

To the jail of Mountjoy!
Jail him and joy

He was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us
Slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for the populacе
Mare's milk for the sick, sevеn dry Sundays a week
Openair love and religion's reform

And religious reform
Hideous in form

Arrah, why, says you, couldn't he manage it?
I'll go bail, my fine dairyman darling
Like the bumping bull of the Cassidys
All your butter is in your horns
His butter is in his horns
Butter his horns!

(Repeat) Hurrah there, Hosty, frosty Hosty, change that shirt on ye
Rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!

Balbaccio, balbuccio!

We had chaw chaw chops, chairs, chewing gum, the chicken-pox and china chambers
Universally provided by this soffsoaping salesman
Small wonder He'll Cheat E'erawan our local lads nicknamed him
When Chimpden first took the floor

With his bucketshop store
Down Bargainweg, Lower

So snug he was in his hotel premises sumptuous
But soon we'll bonfire all his trash, tricks and trumpery
And 'tis short till sheriff Clancy'll be winding up his unlimited company
With the bailiff's bom at the door

Bimbam at the door
Then he'll bum no more

Sweet bad luck on the waves washed to our island
The hooker of that hammerfast viking
And Gall's curse on the day when Eblana bay
Saw his black and tan man-o'-war
Saw his man-o'-war
On the harbour bar

Where from? roars Poolbeg. Cookingha'pence, he bawls
Donnez-moi scampitle, wick an wipin'fampiny
Fingal Mac Oscar Onesine Bargearse Boniface
Thok's min gammelhole Norveegickers moniker
Og as ay are at gammelhore Norveegickers cod

A Norwegian camel old cod
He is, begod

Lift it, Hosty, lift it, ye devil, ye! up with the rann, the rhyming rann!

It was during some fresh water garden pumping
Or, according to the Nursing Mirror, while admiring the monkeys
That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey
Made bold a maid to woo

Woohoo, what'll she doo!
The general lost her maidenloo!

He ought to blush for himself, the old hayheaded philosopher
For to go and shove himself that way on top of her
Begob, he's the crux of the catalogue
Of our antediluvial zoo
Messrs Billing and Coo
Noah's larks, good as noo

He was joulting by Wellinton's monument
Our rotorious hippopopotamuns
When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus
And he caught his death of fusiliers

With his rent in his rears
Give him six years

'Tis sore pity for his innocent poor children
But look out for his missus legitimate!
When that frew gets a grip of old Earwicker
Won't there be earwigs on the green?

Big earwigs on the green
The largest ever you seen

Suffoclose! Shikespower! Seudodanto! Anonymoses!

Then we'll have a free trade Gael's band and mass meeting
For to sod him the brave son of Scandiknavery
And we'll bury him down in Oxmanstown
Along with the devil and the Danes

With the deaf and dumb Danes
And all their remains

And not all the king's men nor his horses
Will resurrect his corpus
For there's no true spell in Connacht or hell
That's able to raise a Cain