Irish Thanks for Romish Miracles

Sure from thee, most Holy Father,
Miracles in heaps we gather:
We have one before us that's
Very like the Kerry cats,
Which our history by Moore
Tells us were just twenty-four.
Others show the very house, and
Swear there were eleven thousand,
Keeping up a glorious fight
All the day and all the night,
Not a knuckle, not a rib,
Left at morn by Tab or Tib,
But one only tail to tell
What the Kerry cats befell.
Blessings on thee, Holy Father,
And thy miracles! We'd rather
See as many Frenchmen slain
Than those Kerry cats again,
Tho', as sure as you are born,
Few we want to watch our corn,
Since the Union- guardians eat
Most of that, and all the meat.
Hear those Frenchmen yonder cry
Freedom and fraternity!
See those pebble-loads of carts
Rumbling from their joyous hearts,
See those sabres hicking hacking,
And those rifles clicking clacking!
We may learn one lesson by 't . .
Never go afield to fight.
Botheration! botheration!
Nation striving against nation!
When a single one can do
All the work as well as two.