Charges:
1 Hell
2 Progeny
3 Doles
3 Prophecy
4 Shirking
5 Sin
6 Doles
7 Mother
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Improperia

Stand forth ^|acome boldly in yr true colours^a| (for I will no longer use the inspired form of the third person but will address myself to you direct) Stand forth ^|amove me to scorn & laughter^a| ere you be put back for ever ^|atill while^a| I give you your talking-to! How have you been all this while, my touriladdy? You were bred & fed, & fostered & fattened ^|ain a land of this 2 easters island^a| on a rollicking heaven & roaring hell and you have become a doubter of all known gods and, ^|acondemned fool^a| egoarch, anarch & heresiarch, you have reared your kingdom upon the void of your ^|a|bvery more than^b| doubtful^a| soul. At the age of While yet an adolescent (what do I say?) while still puerile you received a present of that syringe and feeders ^|a(you know as well as I do what I the mechanism I am alluding to)^a| that you might repopulate the land & count up your progeny by the hundred & the hundred thousand but you have thwarted the simple wish of the godmother who gave you it & them & have ^|areckoned added^a| the morosity of your delectations ^|aamong the to Lubbock's^a| pleasures of life — — and this with ^|acantreds of^a| overplussing sisters ^|acongested^a| round & about you for acres, roods ^|a& & poles or^a| perches mutely braying w for what would not cost you the price of a pang ^|aone the oldest song in the wide wide world accompanied by a plain gold band^a|. Sniffer of carrion, you have foretold death & disaster ^|athe dynamitising of ^|bfriendship friends^b|, the reducing of records to ashes, the destruction of customs by fire, the return of gunpowdered dust to dust,^a| but it never struck your ^|amudhead's^a| obtundity that the more carrots you chop, the more turnips you slit, the more spuds you peel, the more onions you sliver, the more mutton you ^|ahash crackerhash^a|, the more bacon you rasher, ^|athe more potherbs you pound,^a| the hotter
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the fire & the longer the spoon & the harder you gruel it more & more the merrier reeks your Irish stew. You were designed to do a certain office (what I will not tell you) in a certain office (nor will I tell you where) during certain office hours from such a year to such a year at so & so much a year per year & do yr little ^|athreepenny^a| bit right here ^|asame as we,^a| long of us where you ^|apull my coat & I'll pull yours set fire my tailcoat and I'll hold the parafin lamp under yours^a| & you have slackly shirked the job slackly shirking both billet & bullet ^|a& beat it to sing your songs of alibi^a| emigrant in the wrong direction sitting on a crooked sixpenny stile ^|ayou (will you ^|bjust^b| help me with the word?) unfrillfrocked blackfriar (that describes you)^a|, Europasianised Afferyank! There grew up beside you^|a, on his keeping & in yours,^a| that other, that pure one, he who was ^|awell^a| known in ^|aheaven heavenly circles above^a| long before he arrived there, ^|athe a^a| chum of the ^|aangels^a| a ^|aflawless^a| model whose spiritual toilette was the talk of the town, ^|aa youth they wanted up in heaven,^a| & him you laid low with one hand one fine day to find out how his innards worked. ^|aEver hear of the monkey & the virgin heir of Claremorris, eh, ^|bblethering^b| ape?^a| Malingerer, ^|aoutofwork,^a| what have you done with all the ^|abaskets babyprams^a| of stewed fruit, the dishfuls of cooked vegetables, the bags of ^|apoached coddled^a| eggs, you cozened out of charitable kitchens by piping your eye & ^|asaying howling^a| as how you suffered ^|ano end^a| from ^|achicken's gape &^a| mal de siècle. ^|aWhere are the little apples we lock up in the little drawer? Where is that little ^|balimony^b| nestegg for our ^|bpredictable^b| rainy day?^a| Is it not ^|aa the^a| fact (^|acontradict gainsay^a| me, cakeater!) that you shared with underlings
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the overload of your extravagance? ^|aAm I not right? ^|bLook up, old son, & take yr medicine!^{b|a| |a}And remember Silence means consent, Mr Anklegazer.^a| Pariah, Cannibal Cain, you oathily forswore the womb that bore you & the paps you sometime sucked e and ever since you ^|ahave had have been one black mass of^a| jigs & jimjams, haunted by a sense of ^|anot being ^|bnot being or having been having been or not been^b|a| all you might ^|abe or might^a| have been: and, lo, ^|athank God from the innermost depths of your heart,^a| it is to you black sheep, to you, pick of the waste paper basket, ^|aay,^a| to you, unseen blusher of an obscene coalhole, that your ^|acoalblack turfbrown^a| mummy is acoming, ^|alittle oldfashioned mummy, little wonderful —^a| running with her tidings, ^|aall the news of the ^|bgreat big^b| world,^{a| |a}skipping bellhopping^a| the weirs, ducking under bridges, rapidshooting round the corners, ^|aby the hills of Tallaght & the ^|bPoul Pool^b| of the phooka & ^|bplace called^b| Blessington ^|b& Sallynoggin,^b|a| babbling, bubbling, chattering to herself, ^|a|bgidgaddy giddygaddy^b| grandmamma, gossipaceous,^a| Anna Livia.