Улисс
Chapter 9
Andwillagain,sayshe,whenthefirstIrishbattleshipisseenbreastingthewaveswithourownflagtothefore,noneofyourHenryTudor’sharps,no,theoldestflagafloat,theflagoftheprovinceofDesmondandThomond,threecrownsonabluefield,thethreesonsofMilesius.
Andhetookthelastswigoutofthepint.Moya.Allwindandpisslikeatanyardcat.CowsinConnachthavelonghorns.AsmuchashisbloodylifeisworthtogodownandaddresshistalltalktotheassembledmultitudeinShanagoldenwherehedaren’tshowhisnosewiththeMollyMaguireslookingforhimtoletdaylightthroughhimforgrabbingtheholdingofanevictedtenant.
—Hear,heartothat,saysJohnWyse.Whatwillyouhave?
—Animperialyeomanry,saysLenehan,tocelebratetheoccasion.
—Halfone,Terry,saysJohnWyse,andahandsup.Terry!Areyouasleep?
—Yes,sir,saysTerry.SmallwhiskyandbottleofAllsop.Right,sir.
HangingoverthebloodypaperwithAlflookingforspicybitsinsteadofattendingtothegeneralpublic.Pictureofabuttingmatch,tryingtocracktheirbloodyskulls,onechapgoingfortheotherwithhisheaddownlikeabullatagate.Andanotherone:BlackBeastBurnedinOmaha,Ga.AlotofDeadwoodDicksinslouchhatsandtheyfiringataSambostrungupinatreewithhistongueoutandabonfireunderhim.Gob,theyoughttodrownhimintheseaafterandelectrocuteandcrucifyhimtomakesureoftheirjob.
—Butwhataboutthefightingnavy,saysNed,thatkeepsourfoesatbay?
—I’lltellyouwhataboutit,saysthecitizen.Helluponearthitis.
