— Now just permit me a moment?! Are you there? Hello! Sybil Head here. Yes. Very good now. Do you remember the |2|++midsummer++|2| night following the fair day?
— There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night.
— You may say they were.
— Were they bonfires?
— No other name would at all befit them unless that. Bonafieries! With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.
— Was it a high white night now?
— Whitest night mortal ever saw.
— Was there rain by any chance?
— There |++2was a fell some++|2| fall of snow as well, I gather.
— The nicest at all.
— Did not it blow some gales rather strongly to less?
— Out of all jokes it did.
— Do you recollect whether the moon was shining at all?
— Sure she was.
— And was there frostwork about & thick weather & everything.
— There was. July at its worst.
— I see. Now you know the kikkenmidden where the couple first met with each other?
— |++2Indeed & Deed then++|2| I do.
— Is it a place fairly exposed to the 4 winds?
— Well, I |2|++sincerely++|2| hope so, if what I hear is all true.
— Is it Woful Dane Bottom?
— It is woful whatever about anything else.
— There used to be a tree there stuck up.
— There used. And the crandest maypole tree in the all the world. A giant is what he is. |2|++The father & mother of a plant!++|2|
— How grand is this giant? Tell us what you know about the plant.
— There's |2|++waitingmaids queensmaids |a& iris treegirlsa|++|2| growing
|++2on upon++|2| her &
|2|++Tyburn++|2| fenians |2|++hiding
snoring++|2| in his bole & |++2young Erasmus Smith's++|2| culprits of boys climbing to her crock & the Kilmainham pensioners chucking
farthings up into her to fall her and cock robins hatching out mistletoe eggs for him, the sun & moon pegging honeysuckle & white heather down, the creatures of the wild all approaching to claw and rub and hermits of the desert barking their shins over her infernal
roots, and his acorns flying wild on all sides out of him after the birds of the air & her leaves sinsinning
since the night of time and each & all of their branches meeting & shaking twisty hands once more |2|++all over again++|2| in the new world.
— I've got that now. The form masculine, the gender feminine. I see. Now are you connected with it yourself in any way? The tree I mean.
— Let me recall. Are you acquainted with a pagany better known as Toucher Doyle who is? Consider yourself on the stand now & watch yr words.
— I consider I would be frightfully ashamed if I was.
— He is a man of around 50 who does messages. Have you ever heard of this Doyle who belongs to Kimmage being most of his time down at the Green Man & mixing with the public going for groceries always when he wd be finished his tea.
— As mad as the brambles he is. Touch him.
— Now, I'm wondering brush up yr memory a bit. I'm wondering |2|++to myself++|2| was he wearing false clothes for that occasion of the wedding.
— I am sorry to have to tell you they were coming down from off him.
— How many were married on that morning? Was everybody Everybody was |2|++canonically++|2| drunk, I am told.
— |2|++Well, naturally. But++|2| The priest & the bride were sober.
— You are quite sure it was not a wake you were at?
— Happily you were not quite so successful in sublimating yr suppressions?
— Quite so.
— Now cast your eyes around you. I want you to tell us as briefly as you can how these funeral games took place. |2|++
— |aAh,a| Go on now with |aye youa|.++|2|
— Faith then, first he |2|++come up &++|2| wanted |++2a match his calico back++|2|. Then counting as many as 30 seconds |2|++like I said++|2| he kept cursing at him |2|++the way he was robbed++|2| to know who burned the hay which the man knew nothing about.
— In other words was that how the angelic warfare started?