Nice and quiet shure she was,
       And nivir did any harrum;
     She lived alane all be herself,
       And worked upon her farrum.

     There lived out o’er the hill,
       In a great din o’ rocks,
     A crafty, shly, and wicked
       Ould folly iv a Fox.

     This rashkill iv a Fox,
       He tuk it in his head
     He’d have the little Rid Hin: 
       So, whin he wint to bed,

     He laid awake and thaught
       What a foine thing ’twad be
     To fetch her home and bile her up
       For his ould marm and he.

     And so he thaught and thaught,
       Until he grew so thin
     That there was nothin’ left of him
       But jist his bones and shkin.

     But the small Rid Hin was wise,
       She always locked her door,
     And in her pocket pit the key,
       To keep the Fox out shure.

     But at last there came a schame
       Intil his wicked head,
     And he tuk a great big bag
       And to his mither said,—­

     “Now have the pot all bilin’
       Agin the time I come;
     We’ll ate the small Rid Hin to-night,
       For shure I’ll bring her home.”

     And so away he wint
       Wid the bag upon his back,
     An’ up the hill and through the woods
       Saftly he made his track.

     An’ thin he came alang,
       Craping as shtill’s a mouse,
     To where the little small Rid Hin
       Lived in her shnug ould house.

     An’ out she comes hersel’,
       Jist as he got in sight,
     To pick up shticks to make her fire: 
       “Aha!” says Fox, “all right.

     “Begorra, now, I’ll have yees
       Widout much throuble more”;
     An’ in he shlips quite unbeknownst,
       An’ hides be’ind the door.

     An’ thin, a minute afther,
       In comes the small Rid Hin,
     An’ shuts the door, and locks it, too,
       An’ thinks, “I’m safely in.”

     An’ thin she tarns around
       An’ looks be’ind the door;
     There shtands the Fox wid his big tail
       Shpread out upon the floor.

     Dear me! she was so schared
       Wid such a wondrous sight,
     She dropped her apronful of shticks,
       An’ flew up in a fright,

     An’ lighted on the bame
       Across on top the room;
     “Aha!” says she, “ye don’t have me;
       Ye may as well go home.”

     “Aha!” says Fox, “we’ll see;
       I’ll bring yees down from that.” 
     So out he marched upon the floor
       Right under where she sat.

     An’ thin he whiruled around,
       An’ round an’ round an’ round,
     Fashter an’ fashter an’ fashter,
       Afther his tail on the ground.

     Until the small Rid Hin
       She got so dizzy, shure,
     Wid lookin’ at the Fox’s tail,
       She jist dropped on the floor.