O then, learn the inmost meaning
    Of your harvest’s rich redundance,
  Bid the famished ones come gleaning
    In the fields of your abundance;
  So in overrunning measure
    Shall your thankful fellow-men
  Give you, of their hearts’ hid treasure,
    All your good gifts back again.

  Till, ye faithful sons and daughters,
    God your golden lives deliver,
  Like the good grain to the waters
    Of death’s overflowing river;
  Till up-caught amid His sleepers,
    Heavenly fruit from earthly loam,
  At the last, His angel reapers
    On their bosoms bear you home.

V. GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANTS

FATHER O’FLYNN

Of priests we can offer a charming variety,
Far renowned for larning and piety;
Still, I’d advance you, widout impropriety,

        Father O’Flynn as the flower of them all.

Chorus:  Here’s a health to you, Father O’Flynn,
Slainte and slainte, and slainte agin;
Powerfullest preacher, and
Tenderest teacher, and
Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.

Don’t talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity,
Famous for ever for Greek and Latinity,
Dad, and the divels and all at Divinity,
Father O’Flynn ’d make hares of them all. 
Come, I vinture to give you my word,
Never the likes of his logic was heard. 
Down from Mythology
Into Thayology,
Troth! and Conchology, if he’d the call.
Chorus:  Here’s a health to you, etc.

Och!  Father O’Flynn, you’ve the wonderful way wid you,
All the ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you,
All the young childer are wild for to play wid you,
You’ve such a way wid you, Father avick! 
Still, for all you’ve so gentle a soul,
Gad, you’ve your flock in the grandest conthroul
Checkin’ the crazy ones,
Coaxin’ onaisy ones,
Liftin’ the lazy ones on wid the stick.
Chorus:  Here’s a health to you, etc.

And though quite avoidin’ all foolish frivolity,
Still at all saisons of innocent jollity,
Where was the play-boy could claim an equality
At comicality, Father, wid you? 
Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest,
Till this remark set him off wid the rest: 
“Is it lave gaiety
All to the laity? 
Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?”
Chorus:  Here’s a health to you, etc.

LADY GWENNY

County by county for beauty and bounty
Go search! and this pound to a penny,
When you’ve one woman to show us as human
And lovely as our Lady Gwenny;
For she has the scorn for all scorners,
And she has the tear for all mourners,
Yet joying with joy,
With no crabb’d annoy
To pull down her mouth at the corners.