macushla

I have neither kith nor kin nor Macushla my dog.

The Irish put down my poor innocent Macushla.

Macushla would love a dinner of a nice plump Irish infant, wouldn’t you, you oul’ hoor?

And I tell her how Uncle Pat doesn’t want me anymore and how they put Mr. Timoney in the City Home for laughing just because Macushla bit the postman, the milkman and a passing nun.

A woman next door to Mr.Timoney tells me I’m wasting my time knocking on the door, Macushla bit the postman, the milkman and a passing nun on the same day and Mr.Timoney couldn’t stop laughing though he cried when the dog was taken away to be put down.