From c8e509b9221eee9ef5d9d40453702e580db58f12 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: Ronan Crowley
can almost taste it, can't you?
He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his
fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.
-
mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton.
+a great sweet
+
The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.
mother?Epi oinopa ponton.
Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the
original. Thalatta! Thalatta!
She is our great sweet mother. Come and
look.
He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out
of tune with a Cockney accent:
-O, won't we have a merry time,
Drinking whisky, beer and wine!
On coronation,
Coronation day!
O, won't we have a merry time
-
On coronation day!
Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone,
forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there all
day, forgotten friendship?
Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a
hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf:
-For old Mary Ann
She doesn't care a damn.
-
But, hising up her petticoats
He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.
The doorway was darkened by an entering form.
and cried:
He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying:
-
All I can give you I give.
Ask nothing more of me, sweet. +
All I can give you I give.
Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.
sir.
She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan's tender
chant:
-
More would be laid at your feet.
Heart of my heart, were it more, +
More would be laid at your feet.
He turned to Stephen and said:
back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland expects