There's been no harper in my instance but plenty of ruffians to swear I'm too comfortable to think of my country.' The captain holloaed.

'Do they hear that?
Lord! but wouldn't our old Celtic fill the world with poetry if only we were a free people to give our minds to 't, instead of to the itch on our backs from the Saxon horsehair shirt we're forced to wear.
For, Pat, as you know, we're a loving people, we're a loyal people, we burn to be enthusiastic, but when our skins are eternally irritated, how can we sing?
In a freer Erin I'd be the bard of the land, never doubt it.

What am I here but a discontented idle lout crooning over the empty glories of our isle of Saints! You feel them, Pat.

Phil's all for his British army, his capabilities of British light cavalry.

Write me the history of the Enniskillens.