When Pat came over the hill,
His Colleen fair to see,
His whistle low, but shrill,
The signal was to be;

"Mary," the mother said,
"Someone is whistlin' sure;"
Says Mary, "'tis only the wind
Is whistlin' through the door."

"I've lived a long time, Mary,
In this wide world, my dear,
But a door to whistle like that
I never yet did hear."

"But, mother, you know the fiddle
Hangs close beside the chink,
And the wind upon the sthtrings
Is playing the tchune I think."

"Mary, I hear the pig,
Unaisy in his mind."
"But, mother, you know, they say
The pigs can see the wind."

"That's thrue enough in the day,
But I think you may remark,
That pigs, no more nor we,
Can see anything in the dark."

"The dog is barkin' now,
The fiddle can't play that tchune."
"But, mother, the dogs will bark
Whenever they see the moon."

"But how could he see the moon,
When, you know, the dog is blind?
Blind dogs won't bark at the moon,
Nor fiddles be played by the wind.

"I'm not such a fool as you think,
I know very well 'tis Pat:
Shut your mouth, you whistlin' thief,
And go along home out o' that!

"And you go off to your bed, 
Don't play upon me your jeers;
For though I have lost my eyes,
I haven't lost my ears!"