Would y'ever quit bein' so coy, there, armagh (I can't bring myself to say your oul' name in the Irish!).

I'm sure ye'd look jist the part in a splendid uniform wi' a bit o' blood and thunder restin' on yer stummick.

Jist got back till the hill after a couple o' braw days trampin' the streets and drinkin' buckie wi' the brawrs. Sure it's hard tae bate th'oul' 12th, boy!

Up Lizzie and away to blazes wi' oul Johnny Red Socks!

Gi'e us anawr bottle of bucky there, Sam!

The night's a pup.

We'll have an oul' sing-song goin' quicker'n you could say half a decade!