Улисс
Chapter 9
Andtheylaughed,sportinginacircleoftheirfoam:andthebarkclavethewaves.
ButbegobIwasjustloweringtheheelofthepintwhenIsawthecitizengettinguptowaddletothedoor,puffingandblowingwiththedropsy,andhecursingthecurseofCromwellonhim,bell,bookandcandleinIrish,spittingandspattingoutofhimandJoeandlittleAlfroundhimlikealeprechauntryingtopeacifyhim.
—Letmealone,sayshe.
Andbegobhegotasfarasthedoorandtheyholdinghimandhebawlsoutofhim:
—ThreecheersforIsrael!
Arrah,sitdownontheparliamentarysideofyourarseforChrist’sakeanddon’tbemakingapublicexhibitionofyourself.Jesus,there’salwayssomebloodyclownorotherkickingupabloodymurderaboutbloodynothing.Gob,it’dturntheportersourinyourguts,soitwould.
AndalltheragamuffinsandslutsofthenationroundthedoorandMartintellingthejarveytodriveaheadandthecitizenbawlingandAlfandJoeathimtowhishtandheonhishighhorseaboutthejewsandtheloaferscallingforaspeechandJackPowertryingtogethimtositdownonthecarandholdhisbloodyjawandaloaferwithapatchoverhiseyestartssingingIfthemaninthemoonwasajew,jew,jewandaslutshoutsoutofher:
—Eh,mister!Yourflyisopen,mister!
Andsayshe:
—MendelssohnwasajewandKarlMarxandMercadanteandSpinoza.AndtheSaviourwasajewandhisfatherwasajew.YourGod.
—Hehadnofather,saysMartin.That’lldonow.Driveahead.
—WhoseGod?saysthecitizen.
—Well,hisunclewasajew,sayshe.YourGodwasajew.
