A Bull
ONE day, no matter where or when,
Except ’twas after some Hibernian revel,
For why? an Irishman is ready then
“To play the Devil”—
A Pat, whose surname has escaped the Bards,
Agreed to play with Nick a game at cards.
The stake, the same that the old Source of Sin
From German Faustus and his German Cousins
Had won by dozens;
The only one in fact he cares a pin
To win.
By luck or roguery of course Old Nick
Won ev’ry trick:
The score was full, the last turn-up had done it—
“Your soul—I’ve won it!”
“It’s true for you I’ve lost that same,”
Said Pat a little hazy in his wits—
“My soul is yours—but come, another game—
Double, or quits!”