MAIRG NA FUIL ’N-A DHUBHTHUATA.

My grief that I am not a boor,
Without good sense or feeling!
As such I might be even
With all this boorish people.

Or that I were a stutterer,
My worthy friends, among you!
Since such a one might suffer all
Your coarseness and presumption.

Or would that I could meet a man
Who’d take my wit and breeding!
I’d put a penny’s price between
Him and his dour demeanour.

But since good clothes win more respect
Than learning and attainments,
Oh! would that all I spent on art
Were round me now in raiment!

        David O’Bruadair, c. 1762
	

Source: O’Connor, Frank; The Poet as Professional,
Irish Statesman, 1925-10-03