— Buncombe, says —, can you point to any part of the wide world where the population has decreased fifty per cent in fifty years under a civilised government? Where are the twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four? They killed our wool trade and our textiles and our potteries, the finest in the world. Where are the ships Where is the government would leave half a million acres of marsh in the middle of the country to make us all die of consumption. Not a ship to be seen in our harbours, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Killybegs, the third harbour in the world for size. |1And the beds of Barrow and Shannon that they won't deepen.1| |1We had our trade with Spain and Europe before they were born. |aSpanish ale & — wine in Galway and the blank |bof withb| the Flemings and the Spaniardsa|. The winebark on the winedark waterway.1| First. First they tried to slaughter, then to banish us, |1then to buy us as they buy everything else,1| then to make us paupers and to starve us but they're as far off as they were 700 years ago when they first began — and |1damn damnation1| well they know it. But they'll know more than that |1to their cost1| when the first Irish battleship |1breasts is seen breasting1| the sea with the green flag at her helm.
— That's a long way off, says —
— Long or short it'll come, says Cusack. Our history that Geoffrey Keating wrote as, an outlaw hiding in the fortresses of the Galtees is not finished yet. What did John Mitchel say: the last conquest of Ireland (perhaps).
— And what about the British Navy? |1says —
— Do you think they will remain hands in their (our) pockets?1|
— What about it? says —. Read the revelations that are going on in the papers.
— What's that? says —
— I though that was abolished by Parnell.
— You thought wrong then, says —. He gives them chapter and verse. The whole crew drawn up on the lower deck and the parson with his bible and the officers. Then they lug out the young chap to give him what that bloody old |1scoundrel ruffian sir John1| Beresford called a rump and dozen. And they tie him down over a gun, with his legs straddled out …
— Stripped, is it?
— He has a pair of duck trousers on him …
— Yes, says J.J. They distinguish caning on the breech and caning on the bare breech
O'Madden Burke put in his goo
— … And then the master-at-arms takes a long cane and flogs the bloody backside off the poor chap till he yells |1meila murder1|.
— Bloody in all senses of the word, says —.
— As in ancient Sparta, says — MacHugh
— The bat victory of Trafalgar, says —, was won on the whipping stools of Portsmouth.
— That's your British navy for you, says —. Those are the fellows that never will be slaves. Serfs they are still, with the only hereditary chamber in Eu the world and their country in the hands of twentyfive noblemen. Wo Did we ever stand that in Ireland, eh? What about the land league, eh? And they call themselves prate of the liberty of their empires of drudges.
— On which the sun never rises, says young D—
— And they believe it, says — The
I believe, O Lord. Help my unbelief.
— It's well they do if no-one else does, says
— Liars and hypocrites, of course, says O'M B
— Army! says —. Rotten to the marrow. Do you know that fifty per cent of all the diseases in the Br Army are due to syphilis