coat, without guard hairs, of the stormtrooping clouds and in the leather world, infect the whole pub’s pobbel done a stare. On the harbour bar. Where from.? roars Poolbeg. Cookingha’pence, he bawls Donnez- [moi scampitle, wick an wipin’fampiny Fingal Mac Oscar Onesine Bargearse Boniface Thok’s min gammelhole Norveegickers moniker Og as ay are at gammelhore Norveegickers cod. (Chorus) A Norwegian camel old cod. He is, really. Holdhard till you’ll hear me all of me draims. Scratching it and wild bees- wax and holifer! Don’t tell me! Why, the boy to wash