Lowly, longly a wail went forth. Pure Yawn lay low. On the mead of the hillock he lay, brief wallet to his side, an arm loose by his staff of citron briar. Most distressfully (but, my dear, how successfully!) to wail he did, his locks of a Lucan tinge, quickrich, ripely rippling, unfilleted, those lashbetasselled lids on the verge of closing time, whiles out of his sidewiseopen mouth the breath of him, evenso languishing as the princeliest treble treacle or lichoo chewchow purse could buy. Yawn in a semiswoon lay awailing and, (hooh!) what helpings of honeyfed sweethood, (phew!) wheech earpiercing dulcitude! As were you suppose to go and push with your bluntplank pin in hand upinto |2his2| fleshasplush cushionettes of some chubby boybold love of an angel. |2Hwoah!2|
When, as the buzzers buzzer brings the light brigade, keeping the homefires burning, so on the churring call themselves came at him from all their cardinal parts, along the amber way, where Brosna is furzy. To lift them they did by the first quaint skreek of the gloaming
and they hopped it up the mountainy molehill, traversing climes of all times
gone by of the days not worth remembering, inventing some excusethems, any sort, having a sevenply sweat of nightfears moist upon them — phopho, foorchtha, aggala, jeeshee, paloola, ooridiminis. Afeard themselves were to wonder at the |2sort of chap the class of coon2| he would |2likely2| be |2length, breadth |aless plusa| thickness,2| ells upon ells of him, making so many square yards of him, one half of him in Conn's half but the whole of him nevertheless in |2Owen's Owenmore's2| five quarters. There he would lay, |2chained spancelled2| down upon a |2bed of flowers blossomy bed2|, at one foul stretch amongst the daffydowndillies, |2the flowers of narcosis fettering |ahim his footlightsa|,2| a halohedge of wild spuds hovering over him, epicures waltzing with gardenfillers, puritan shoots advancing to Aran chiefs. Phopho! The meteorpulp of him, the seamless rainbowpeel! Aggala! His bellyvoid of nebulose |2and with2| his neverstop navel! Paloola! And his veins shooting melanite phosphor, his creamtocustard comethair and his arrowroot knuckles, ribs and members! Ooridimininis! His electrolatiginous twisted entrails belt!
Those four claymen clomb together to hold their sworn inquiry on him. Up to the esker ridge it was, Mullingar parish, to the a mead that was not far, the sons son's rest. First klettered Matthew Gregory, through the deep timefield, Marcus Lyons, tailing the wavy line of his partition footsteps (something in his blisters was telling him all along how he had been in that place one time), then His Recordership, Dr Luke Tarpey, after honourable sleep, hot on to the aniseed, and last, up out of his prompt corner old Johnny Mac, Mac Dougal, the hiker, in the rere of them on the run to make a quorum. Roping their ass he was, their skygrey globetrotter, by way of an afterthought and such legs on him they were that much uneven it was tumbling he was by four lengths to hear with his unaided ear the harp in the air, the bugle dianablowing, wild as wild, the mockingbird whose word is misfortune so 'tis said, the bulbul down the wind.
The proto was traipsing through the tangle then and
his station was a few perch to the weatherside of the knoll Usnach and it was from no other place unless there that he extended aloof the hand making silence. The buckos beyond on the lea then stopped wheresoever they found their standings and in that way they set watch about him, upholding their broadawake probers' hats on their firrum heads. And a crack quatyouare of stenoggers they made of themselves, all told, not even to the exclusion of their beast by them and he was the odd trick of the pack. And who should be laying there forenenst them only Yawn. All of asprawl he was laying too and, I can tell you something more than that, he was profoundly asleep. And it was more similar to a satrap he lay there, by satellites all surrounded, or for all I know like the Lord Lumen, coaching his preferred constellations in faith and doctrine for old Matt Gregory 'tis he had the starmenagerie, Marcus Lyons and Lucas Metcalfe Tarpey and
the mack that never forgave the ass that lurked behind him, Johnny na Hossaleen.
More than their good share ensorcelled you would say themselves were the way they could not rightly tell their heels from their stools as they cooched down by his crib, curchycurchy, gawking on him, and softnoising one of them to another one, the boguaqueesthers. And it is what they began to say to him then|2, the masters,2| what way was he.
— |2He is He's2| giving, the wee |2chap bairn2|. Yun has lived.
— Yerra, why so, my leader?
— Is he sick or what, sonny machree acushla?
— Or his wind's from the wrong cut, says Ned of the hill.
— He is. Lesten!
— Why so and speak up! D'you hear me, you sir?
— Or if not, he's rehearsing |2someone's somewan's2| funeral.
— Whisht outathat! Hubba's up!
— Get busy, kid.
— Chirpy, come now.
— The present hospices is a good time.
— I'll take that |2lad now chap2|.
for it was in the back of their |2mind mind's ear2| how they would unread be spreading their azurespotted fine attractable net from Matt to the mystagogue after him and from thence to the neighbour and that way to the donkeyman and in their |2mind's back minds years back2| so it was how they would be meshing that way the quavers of scaly silver and the clutches of chromes of the highlylucid spanishing gold whilst, as hour gave way to hour with Yawn himself keeping time with his |2tongue thripthongue2| to ope |2he would2| his blurbeous lips |2he would2| the way mist of the fields and molten moonset would be melding into his mouth.
— First, if yu don't mind. Name yur groun?
— This same historical barrow 'tis, the orangery.
— I see. Very good now. It is in your orangery, I take it, you have the letters?
— So long beforetime?
— Very good now. Now I would like to raise a point of language touching this. There is the word maggers. I am advised that there are |2over 600 fully 6062| words in your language for monarch but that there is |2no not one2| term which signifies majesty. Is that the case?
— C'est mal prononcé.
— Hep there! Who's thot talkin? Whure yu?
— Tristan Patrick Dieudonné.
|2— Are you blank
— The same.2|
— What are ye shevering about? Is there cold on ye?
— The woods of Fochlut.
— I know that place better than anyone. Sure I used to be always over there |2at my grandmother's place2| with the long dogs, coursing. That's the place for the oysters, Puldudy. I never knew how rich I was |2carrying my ass unread along the shore2|. Did you know Jasper Dougal out there, Pat Whateveryournameis?
— The wolves of Fochlut.
— Wisha an that a good wan, right enough. Wooluvs|2, no less2|!
— One moment now. I would like to put a question. Tell me now this. You told us a moment since about this barrow. Well now I suggest to you that before there was this barrow as you call it there was a
boat there. Would you bear me out in that? An orange boat.
— Norsker. Her raven flag was out. Say, call that girl with the tan |2dress tress2| on. Call wolfhound. Wolf of the sea. |2Falchu! Falchu!2|
— Very good now. I will go on now from that. From Daneland sailed the oxeyed man, now mark well what I say.
— Magnus Spadebeard. |2He signed Signed2| to me with his baling scoop. |2He laid Laid2| bare his breastpaps to give suck to me, to suckle me.
— O Jayses' fluid! says the poisoned well.
— Hep! Hello there! Whu's he? Whu's thes lad with the pups?
— Hunckalus Childared Eastmanslure.
— I see, yes. |2You mean you lived with them while you learned to howl2|
— |2How much? Here, hold me hat till I die of surprise.2|
— |2Letter him! Whaat! Whoah! Speak very slow.2|
— |2Hail him the heathen, heal him with holystone. Hail him heathen, heal him holystone2|
|2Courser, recourser, changechild of constancy. Courser, recourser, changechild,2|
|2Eld unto endall, earth of the earth. Eld as endall, earthborn.2|
— Was this in before Domini Nostri?
— Earth, I see. Would he now be city or county |2if you know the difference2|?
— Well, he might nonobstant
like yourself. Tigon or liger. That is an old fellow now and he could be all your fathers.
— Muddybroth! And where do we get off, young fellow?
— Wulva! wulva!
— MacDougal that is coughing. I would go near identifying you |2by yr stavrotides2|. And that plucher you have is no use to you either, Johnny, my donkey, O. Number four, keep time pull yr weight.
— D'ye ken a young scholar the name of Kevin that was shooing a gagag that foun the dogumen number one.
— I no way need you, stroke oar, nor your quick handles. You're too far north there and you're south so.
— South, I see. De man dat found it dere was de man dat put it dere originally. But how did it come into your possession? That's the point I raise now in so many words. Now we have cause and effect. Or I will put it another way. There is a strong suspicion on young Kevin. Now have you a reasonable doubt in your mind about him or are you in your post. Spell me that without
— I'll see you farther, blarneying Mark. That innocent, did I alter him to hogsfat? I don't know but God knows I was altered first. If I confessed in clean before him and you why did you, my best friend, blather always you would back me to Humphrey and Nephew for this post and then you round and you canvass the other crowd and you say I'm uppish and not mere Irish. Well, I may as well correct that now in case of temporalities. I've my pockets full of you lay cardinals. My caste is a cut above yours. Look at my brand on me. Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious. I can point to my patrician coat of arms. And mine is the only proper name to be found in doomsday book. Suck at.
— Suck it yourself, sugarstick. Who's asking to look at your sore toe? What about your bottlewasher of an old fellow |2tell us2|? What about the
|2old bonafide2| peachlover, esquire earwugs? How big was his best friend? The Swaaber! The twicer! Bloody curse to him!
— Me gnemgnem damfool. Me no savvy |2numpa one2| allsame topside tellmastory fella. Me savvy one time. Goddam cowbellymaam belongame she |2pullameout pullamealong2| one time pickaminy |2jackinabox jackinaboss2| belongaher |2|ame savvy same time me no gnemgnem damfoola|2| me plentymuch boohoo.
— Thot's never the postal cleric. Are yu Roman Cathoric 432?
— Quadrigue my yoke
Triple my tryst
Tandem my sire.
— Tantris, I see now. Now I feel called upon to ask did it ever occur to you prior to this by a stretch of imagination that you might be very largely substituted by a complementary character.
— Once or twice. A few times as I chanced to be stretching myself in my imagination I felt feeling queer round my middle aging so that I'm not myself at all. Bruno & Nolan
|2partners2| off Nassau street were explaining it all |2round2| to each |2other others2| ere yesterday. When heuponolan Bruno monopolises his |2brunoego egobruno2| |2most2| unwillingly senses by the mortal powers |2alionolan's alionolan2| equal and opposite brunoipso, ipso, |2that is id est2|, eternally provoking alio opposite equally, as provoked as Bruno at being eternally |2contradicted opposed2| by Nolan.
— Now will you just search your memory for this impersonating medium. Without revealing names Would it be a fellow much about your own size with a buff whiskers?
— Stouter is doing the dirty on me so he is with |2her tantrums &2| all |2the these2| kilowatts that I'd be better off without.
— Stouter & stouter, I see. Now you told us of |2a this2| tryst. I wonder now, without revealing |2names family secrets2|, do I know the name?
— |2Marik! Marik! Marik! Marik! Marik! Marik!2|
|2Wha lost his drariks in the parik Ha |adrappid drappada| has |adrariks draraksa| in the parik2|
|2He'd want to harik his character christened by the harkbishop of Yarik! And ha had ta barrow tha watercrass shartclothes off tha arkbishop of Yorik.2|
— O cross of Cong there was a |2lad chancer2| for ye!
— I beg to traverse above statement inasmuch as my revered was confined in barracks by doctor Finucane |aentailing a laxative tendency and his being forbidden fruita| when my reputed husband took a drink |afrom out ofa| the said |abo bottlea| and he showed me a poker |awhich was |bhereb| produceda| with the remark: This is for Sneak.
— Creeping |ainto througha| the children of Mary class disguised as |aa judge a blancmange |bwith molassesb|a| with two false heads on him with two sorts of unread on him. Three cheers for the name of Magrath!
— I would misdemean to |areply rebukea| to the libel of snots, inasmuch as a sovereign was presented |ato alla| by that noblest of magistrates with nice admired engraving |ahaving meaninga| all his manly parts |ain duringa| the act, as required by statues.
— Sure that lad was boycotted as I'm given now to understand. There was nobody wd come next or near him after that.
— Arrah, weren't they coming in their centuries for to pay their |afirstratea| respects to him |ain his reunited magazinea|, the grand old MacGuinness Mor, boot kings
|aindiarubber umpiresa| and sultana raisins |a& jam sahibsa| and shahs from Paisley and the Cesarewitch |afor the currant
countera| riding |aupstairs up the holy staircasea| on
muleback hindquarters |afirst beforea| holding |ahard on toa| his national anthem Horsey, Keep your tail up and jam sahibs and an odd princess in her petticoat and the queen of Indian |aplayinga| clubs and the Claddagh ringleaders and Salame, the tetracha, and the Hava Ham |aand fa two fat Maharashersa| and the German Silver geyser |aall & he polished off gorgeousa| in German |a& tintinabulating by himselfa| and J.B. Dunlop, the tyrant of his time, and French wine stuarts and Tudor keepsakes & as much as the |alift |bvacantb| throne rooma| could |ahold at once safely accomodatea| of the house of Orange & Bitters, permeated by druids and |aflockoolaghs flahoolaghsa| and brehons and anteparnellites and all murdering Irish out of one another their boon companions, |afora| to nobble |aa |bor salvageb| theira| bit of him, |athea| poor old |abasiloosea| |aDoddering Doddericka| O'Comick Wreck, lying high |aas he |bwas lay |cfor sale after inspectionc| with his buttend upb|a| & |a|bsuperb| astounded|b, as it was,b| at |bthusb| beinga| reduced to nothing.2|
— D'yu mean to set there where y'are now, Sorley boy, |2repeating yerself2| and tell me that?
— I mean to sit here where you are now, Surly Guy, |2replete in myself2| as long as I live. If I can't upset this pound of ollaves I can sit setup upon him.
— |2Put your ear to it. It's the soldiers! Lay yer lug to the groun, man! They're playing thimbles & bodkins.2|
— Hep! Whu's within?
Crom abu! Cromwell to victory!
We'll |2get |agoad gorea|2| them and |2gat gash |athem and gelda|2| them |2unread gloat on them2|
— O, widows and orphan's orphans! It's the yeomanry. Redshanks for ever!
— Up, my doggies, up! It's the The cry of the deer it is! View halloo! After, folk.
Christ in the fort! Christ in the chariotseat!
|2Waterdaughter! Slog & doughter!2| Rape the |2daughter doughter2|! Choke the pope!
O cloudy father! Nongood!
Sold! I am sold! Brinabride, goodbye! Brinabride!
Pipette dear! Me! Me!
Fortramon & traharp. |2Arch! March!2|
Me! |2|aI am true. I'm true. |bTrue!b|a|2| Isolde! Pipette, my precious!
Brinabride, get my price! My price. Brinabride!
|2Your My2| price, |2my2| preciousest!
Brinabride, my price! When you sell me get my price!
Pipette! Pipette, my precious one!
— Now, we're getting it. Hello!
— Hello there. |2Ballymacarett!2| Am I throu thru, |2miss O mess2|?
— Hello hello!
— Zin. Comment, six heures? Up zin. Écoute, Charles! |2Godasses de qui?2| Up zin Up zin. O la la! Ca c'est fort. Up zin. Up zin. Oui, mon petit. Mais oui, mon petit. Petitzin. Petitzin. Petitzin. Petitzin.
— Now just permit me for a moment. Now hello there, Dingle beach. Now |2very2| good. Now about this massacre & so on. Do you remember |2the that2| night |2|aafter followinga| the fair day2|?
— unread Well.
— You may say there were. |aBonfires, no less!a| With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.2|
— Was it a fine night |2now2|?
|2— There was a fall of snow too, was there?
— Did not it blow some wind as well?
— Out of all jokes it did.2|
— Do you recollect whether the moon was shining at all?
— Sure she was.
— |2That's right. There is. |aThe |bgrandest
|ccrandest krandestc|b| in |ballb| the world.a|2|
|2— Are you connected Have you any crand
— How crand is it|a, tell? Tella| us now. are you yourself connected with it|a, maybea|?
— |aConsider yourself on |boath the stand |c& watch yr wordsc|b|.a| Be careful how you answer this now. |aYou know Are you acquainted witha| a |apaganya| man |abettera| known as Toucher Doyle |awho isa|?
— I |aconsidera| wd be frightfully ashamed |ato be if I wasa|.
— He is as mad as the brambles
— |aBrush yr memory up a bit.a| Was he wearing false clothes |afor the occasiona|?
— |aI am sorry to have to tell youa| They were |aall falling off coming down
— |2Cast yr eyes around now2| Tell us |2now2| as briefly as you can how the whole thing happened.
— First he wanted a match. |2Then counting 30 seconds and cursed at him to know who burned the hay which the man knew nothing about2|
— Like that. Truly.
— |2All the same2| You will swear you saw their shadows struggling |2& kicking up the |afallena| leaves |afor the winda|2|?
— I will.
— And this |2pootsch2| went on night after night, according to you? For years and years |2perhaps2|.
— That's right.
— D'yu mean to tell us |2on your oath |amy lad,a|2| the yer mune was shining night after night for years and years |2when you swore |ato it perhapsa| a while back |athe other way abouta| there was plenty of rain all the time2|?
— |2Perhaps so.2| I never thought about it, faith.
— I swear to it now that it was then.
— |2Let me again. Now, this point2| Did you know that one of these men wa two, the man with the fender or the man with the coffin, if you prefer, was accused of a certain offence |2or of a choice of two evils, if you prefer it put that way2|?
— You hear things.
— Which |2one of the two for choice2| wd you favour, if any? Are |2you an orangeman there any orangemen in your |afamilya| tree2|?
— It all depends on what you mean by that?
— Have you ever reflected, witness, that the evil chosen might lead some way |2to unto2| good |2|afor towarda| the generality2|?
— Me and Frisky |2Shorty2| was arguing
|2on that friendly like over that old party2|. What |2we want me & Frisky wants2| to know is |2this here thisahere2|: Supposing him guilty of his supposed conduct to have taken his epicene |2licence licences2| respectively as regards them privates |2out for themselves in connection with |aof malesa| and or |aalternately concomitantlya| with all |arespect common or neuter respectsa| to2| them public females as was |2detained very properly very properly detained by the metropolitan2| in connection with this regrettable |2fact nuisance being2| in strict contravention of schedule |2in issued by2| the board of |2public works forests & waters2| byelaw regulating amusements section of our beloved park in pursuance me and Frisky have approached a reverend gentleman |2of the name of |aMra| Coppinger2| as was most obliging in the matter of explanations given to me and Frisky concerning |2the natural concupiscence the |agift meritsa| of early bisexualism2| besides citing the example of a valued friend |2of the reverend Coppinger2| Mr J.P. Cockshot as ha owns a pretty maisonette fronting on to the south bluffs as was telling m us how Mr Cockshot |2he2| tells him |2the reverend Coppinger as how2| he reckoned |2up to2| seven mile |2of a school2| of herring passing |2the Bloater Bay2| point |2from 12. a.m. |aon bya| the silent hour,2| and, reverend, he says, |2gut me but2| them herring was as |2joyful gladful2| as |2kippers2| could |2well2| be considering, flipping their |2tails little Coppingers, pot em,2| the |2fresh2| little flirties, |2the dirty little |abrighteners gillybrightenersa|, so they were, |a|bfrizzle em pickle their sprattiesb|, the little |bsmoltyb| gallockers,a| the little salty p populators,2| and, reverend, says he, as sure as |2my2| eggs is |2eggs |afor ona| cockshot2|, |2all2| them little dippychippies upanddowndippies entre nous they was all of
a |2|arigolo |bregolo wriggolob|a|2| doodah in testimonial to their |2natural concupiscence early bisexualism2|.
— Wait now |2Leixlip2|. I don't follow you so far. Now, You are taking us into the future or are you not? — the fisheries question?
— |2The gubbernator! Gubbernator!2| — and he was nothing short of it! Spawning all over |2his the2| seven parishes!
— Have you heard of the |2psalmsinging psalmsobbing2| salmoner
|2Fogeyborn2| Herren |2Plunderowath Humpalout Plunderus2|
How he went floundering & sploundering all his |2adowtherated2| spunk about,
|2Floundering |aRacing mad Leaping frek frecka|2| after every longtom |2& and |aweta| lizzy2| between |2here Howth2| & Humbermouth
|2The Our2| Human Conger Eel
|2⇒ Have you heard
There's an old psalmsobbing salmoner Fogeyborn Herring Plunderus
Who went floundering & sploundering his boatloads of spunk about,
Leaping freck after every longtom & wet lizzy from Howth to Humbermouth
The Human Conger Eel2|
— Hep! Hold that lad! Hep! Play him! Hep!
— Whoop! Pull you, sir! |2A One2| moment now. Did |2we land him he rise2| then?
— Never a fear |2ye'll |abuta| they'll2| land him yet,
|2slipperunread slipperyskin2| on liffeybank. Do you think they will?
|2I think they will. I'm sure they want to.2| Among the |2quivering reeds
shivering sedges2| or? Flag Weedywaving
|2sedges or Sh. |aThe Ora| tulipfields of Rush |aabove belowa|?2|
— Eh? Tell us & God bless you! Were they fusiliers or the duke of Cromwall's blank |2who how many2| were they unread at all that seen him?
— Ah, God, sure I thought he was larking with two |2fine young2| girls somewhere. I was given to understand there was a pair of them mad gone on him. Sure she |2was2| near drowned |2herself admiring herself in her admiration making faces at her likeness2| in the stream after, |2so all tossed as2| she was.
— Listen, meme, dearest. Of course I know you're a |2very2| wicked girl. Still you |2do2| look lovely. |2O My,2| you do. Listen, meme |2sweety sweet2|. |2There's only the two of us. It's only us two.2| Of course it was |2very downright2| wicked of him |2now,2| really it was. Still, listen, me and you will make it up so as nobody |2of course2| will ever know. So|2, meme mearest,2| be free to me and, listen, we'll be true to you.
— |2One moment.2| How's that at all |2at all2|? Is
|2she this young lady2| by herself. |2What exactly is she doing with herself?2|
— You're talking out of yer turn |2my bouncer2|. Here. |2Answer my queskins.2| How many females was |2it there2|? |2Was there more than Did the food inspector fine more than 16 of water in his purity flour?2| |2|aI am here to knowa| Have the two generals |awho have been |bgetting nosemoney cheapb| stirring up public opinion with their legs, have theya| their service books in order and duly signed when |aleaving discharged froma| their last situation? How did Magrath & the man charged with him come into |alawful awfula| position of the barrel of wash? Where were the doughboys, three in number, |aproceeding directing their steps |bwithout their liaison officer with trenchcoats open & their hands in their pockets v military rulesb|a| when confronted with his obstruction? Is it a fact that this man is the owner of a hengster's circus & |acomplained has made vehement complaintsa| to the police |abarracks |b& applying for a conditional order of certiorarib|a| that he has been molested by offers |ainside of this present weeka| from |afemales female boysa| in this city neighing after him, since once they saw his |alifesizea| picture in the sheets?2| Where's that |2auxiliary2| poleshman that saw the whole |2occurence hoodlum2|. Sackerson!
— High liquor met lust
— |2He Day2| sorker four vanfloat, he verdants market
High liquor |2met made2| lust to |2Tarpey torpid2| dough |2and under awkward hunt her orchid2|.
— Hunt her orchid! |2Old preadamite! with his 2handled umbrella|a, unread & cutaway,a|2| Gob and and he |2will find it too found it on her right enough2|.
— |2That's enough.2| I want to hear |2the old lad old Kithogue2| himself. Hey, there, Bohermore! Are you old Preadamite? Kithogue!