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Updated: May 2, 2025
I was never one day alone to the day of the making of this grave, though it is often that myself and yourselves were in loneliness. My sight is gone from me with looking at the grave of Naoise; it is short till my life will leave me, and those who would have keened me do not live.
Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. O, you peerless mummer! O, you priestified Kinchite! Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a querulous brogue: It's what I'm telling you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were, Haines and myself, the time himself brought it in.
Yeeoo!" she cried, a high, exciting note that keened in the singing wind. And El Rey, ever keen to run for no reason, finding himself called upon, stretched out his great body, dropped low to earth and began to run. The wind cut by Tharon's face like a knife in the first few leaps. It shut her eyes in a dozen. She rode and laughed with a half sob in her throat.
Wouldn't it be too bad to have his toes tied thin, avourneen?" The coffin was then brought out and placed upon four chairs before the door, to be keened; and, in the mean time, the friends and well-wishers of the deceased were brought into the room to get each a glass of whiskey, as a token of respect.
"Deus in adjutorium," muttered the Abbot to himself. "Entra per me!" thundered Galors, and ran him through the body. After the first shudder had swept through the church there was no sound at all, until some woman hidden began a low moan, and keened the Abbot Richard. No one dared to stir while those grim horsemen in the nave sat like rocks.
When he had been keened in the street, there being no hoarse, the coffin was placed upon two handspikes, which were fixed across, but parallel to each other under it.
"Tut, tut!" he cried in Gaelic to the cailltach, "thou art a foolish old woman!" "God keep thee, MacCailein!" said she; "thy daddy put his hand on my head like a son when he came back from his banishment in Spain, and I keened over thy mother dear when she died. The hair of Peggy Bheg's head is thy door-mat, and her son's blood is thy will for a foot-bath."
The north wind moaned and keened dismally under the toil of wafting on this portentous load, and its breath was bitingly sharp, so that when the lads came in from the forge, their grandfather said, "Ah, Dan, shut over the door, for there's a blast sweepin' through it 'ud freeze ten rigiments as stiff as staties." We usually take a large view of things at Lisconnel.
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