Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 2 He was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us Slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for the populace, Mare's milk for the sick, seven dry Sundays a week, Openair love and religion's reform, (Chorus) And religious reform, Hideous in form. Arrah, why, says you, couldn't he manage it? I'll go bail, my fine dairyman darling, Like the bumping bull of the Cassidys All your butter is in your horns. (Chorus) His butter is in his horns. Butter his horns! (Repeat) Hurrah there, Hosty, frosty Hosty, change that shirt [on ye, Rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!