Classic Poem

Now what is he after below in the street?
(God save us, he's terrible wild!)
Is it stirrin' the gutter around with his feet?
He'd best be aware when the two of us meet.
Come in out o' that,
Come in,
You bold unbiddable child!

He's after upsetting the Widow Foy's pail —
She'll murder him yet, Widow Foy!
An' he's pulling the massacree dog by the tail,
By the hokey! that young one is born for the gaol.
Come in out o' that,
Come in,
You rogue of a villyainous boy!

Go tell him his mother is seeking a stick
For a boy that is terrible wild.
If he cares for his feelings he'd better be quick,
Och! he'll draw in his horns when he sees me, will Mick.
Come in out o' that,
Come in,
You bold unbiddable child!