There lived in Quin during the last century a workman named David Moylan. He bore the sobriquet "Davy the poet" on account of his faculty in composing rhymes. I have not heard that he composed Irish Rhymes, the few Irish speakers of the district having died within the last few years.
On one occasion Davy was breaking stones on the side of the road. He was accosted by a painter, who, wishing to crack a joke at Davy's expense, said:
"Oh is it not surprising to see a poet breaking stones"
Davy replied "I'd rather be breaking stones, and making verses,
Than daubing walls, and painting hearses."
On another occasion Moylan met a neighbour named McInery sounded McInery with the accent on the "I". He addressed him as Mr. McEnery. McInery was not pleased with this. He answered that that was not his name