I had a cousin, or so I'm told,
whose name, in truth I never knew,
He was some three or for score old,
all this, no more, have I been told.

On a Thursday in the sitting room,
he was wont to say that he,
was going down to Grainger's gate,
and t'was his pleasure that none should wait.

It was said by those who knew him,
that this was but a petty lie,
and to this place he remained a stranger,
to this public house called Graingers.

I think it strange that one so old,
should be not so self assured,
as to to cover up his petty tracks,
with this pastime, of drinking black.

And what was it, that he desired,
but walk beneath the city sky,
by Clontarf, Marino, and Fairview,
O cousin, whose name I never knew