Now, ye love the gyurl, I know, an' so do I, an' so does ivery man that ivver saw her, for she's the sort min can't help adorin'.

But, mind me, kape away.

Don't write to her.

Don't make poetry about her--God forbid! Don't do the act o' serrynadin' in anny way whativver.

Make no complaint--if ye do she'll hate ye, like as not; for when a gyurl has wronged a man she hates him for it.