I congratulate ye, Francis,
And more power to yer wife—
An' from Montreal to Kansas,
I could safely bet my life
Ye wor proud enough, I hould ye—
Runnin' with the safety pins
Whin ould Mrs. Dolan tould ye,
"Milia murther! she has twins!"
Ye might kill me without warnin'—
Lay me out there on the shelf—
For a sight of ye that mornin',
Throwin' bookays at yerself!
Faix! ye thought ye had a cinch there,
An' begob! so well ye might,
For not even with the Frinch there,
Twins like thim come every night!
Francis, aisy now an' listen
To yer mother's brother James—
Whin the twins ye go to christen,
Don't ye give thim fancy names—
Irene—Edith—Gladys—Mavis—
Cecil Rhodes an' Percival—
If it 's names like that, Lord save us!
Don't live close to the canal!
Michael Whalen of St. Lambert
Had a boy some years ago—
Called him Clarence Montizambert—
Where he got it I dunno—
Monty used to have a brother
(He was Marmaduke Fitzjames),
Killed himself some way or other
Thryin' to pronounce his names!
Bet was three times in a minute,
An' he thrained hard for the same,
But the lad was never in it—
Tho' they tell me he died game!
Well, sir!—Monty grew the height of
Fin McCool or Brian Boru—
Truth I 'm tellin', but in spite of
Ev'rything poor Mike could do—
Divil a dacint situation
Monty got, but dhrive a hack,
At the Bonaventure station—
'T was the name that kept him back—
Till his friend, John Reilly, tould him,
"Change the haythen name for Pat—"
Pathrick Joseph—now behould him
Walkin' dillygate! think o' that!
So be careful, Master Francis,
An' ye 'll bless yer uncle James—
Don't be takin' any chances
With thim God-forsaken names!