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Suppose I was out on the hill there some fine evenin', and I not thinkin' of anythin' in partic'lar, and all of a suddint I'd see a great, big, ugly, black-lookin' baste of a feller, the size of forty, skytin' away wid himself along the light of the sky over yonder, where the sun was about goin' down, and his shadder the len'th of an awful tall tree slippin' streelin' after him, till it was off over the edge of the world like, and that same 'ud be just the Divil, that they were after bundlin' out of it body and bones, the way he wouldn't get meddlin' and makin' and annoyin' people any more.
Like Barney Bralligan's song that finished before it begun isn't that the way of it, ma'am?" "It's a goodish len'th of a while," said Mrs. Doherty. "But thin there's the lave; don't be forgettin' the lave, Paddy man. Supposin' we " "Tub be sure, there's the lave. Why, it's skytin' home on lave they do be most continial.