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James Whitcomb Riley - The Town Karnteel
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The Town Karnteel--! It`s who`ll reveal
Its praises jushtifiable?
For who can sing av anything
So lovely and reliable?
Whin Summer, Spring, or Winter lies
From Malin`s Head to Tipperary,
There`s no such town for interprise
Bechuxt Youghal and Londonderry!

There`s not its likes in Ireland--
For twic`t the week, be gorries!
They`re playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!

Kanteel-- it`s there, like any fair,
The purty gurrls is plinty, sure--!
And man-alive! At forty-five
The leg`s av me air twinty, sure!
I lave me cares, and hoein` too,
Behint me, as is sinsible,
And it`s Karnteel I`m goin` to,
To cilebrate in principle!

For there`s the town av all the land!
And twic`t the week, be-gorries!
They`re playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!

And whilst I feel for owld Karnteel
That I`ve no phrases glorious,
It stands above the need av love
That boasts in voice uproarious--!
Lave that for Cork, and Dublin too,
And Armagh and Killarney thin--,
And Karnteel won`t be troublin` you
Wid any jilous blarney, thin!

For there`s the town av all the land
Where twic`t the week, be-gorries!
They`re playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!
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