Now you jist houl' yer tongue, there, Alison!

Here's me, the flesh roasted aff me and hardly a day in the past few months that I haven't been leavin' a wake behin' me in my haste to get till th'oul' Austrailyee.

And what am I goanny git for my efforts? A tongue-lashin'? Away o' that! Isaac McKittery's never took a bargin' from man, woman or baste. So, I'll tell you what till do, love. Why don't you link up with thon Viking boy you're slaggin' me aff in front o'? Wi' his big horny helmet. And his sheepskin trousers. And you can plait your hair in pigtails and ate candles till your heart's content!

An' there's me after thinkin' you were the quare girl that wud suit a true blue!

Ah, sweet Portydown, where the gentle Bann flows,
Your leavin' I greatly rue
But home I will swim, with vigour and vim
Drumcree once again to view!