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Updated: July 18, 2025
"Him that c'd lay down th' naygers in windrows all day, an' dhrink, an' play car-rds, an' make love all noight an' at 'em agin in th' marnin'! An' now Oi've found um Oi'll shtay by um till wan av us burries th' other. For whilst a McKim roams th' earth James Dunnigan's place is to folly um. "An', Lord be praised, he's a foightin' man but a McKim that don't dhrink! Wurrah!
"Ay, and aren't we every bit as good as they are, if you go to that? haven't we sowls to be saved as well as themselves?" "'As good as they are! as good as the clargy!! Manum a yea agus a wurrah!* listen to what he says! Phaddhy, take care of yourself, you've got rich, now; but for all that, take care of yourself. You had betther not bring the priest's ill-will, or his bad heart upon us.
"Oh, wurrah!" exclaimed Nancy, shuddering with terror. "I wouldn't take anything and be out now on the Drumfarrar road*, and nobody with me but myself." *A lonely mountain-road, said to have been haunted. It is on this road that the coffin scenes mentioned in the Party fight and Funeral is laid.
"Wurrah, wurrah! but it's me that's the heart-scalded crathur with that man's four quarters! The Lord may help me and grant me patience with him, any way! to have my little honest, hard-earned penny spint among a pack of vagabonds, that don't care if him and me wor both down the river, so they could get their skinful of drink out of him!
Maybe, you could give me a sup o' dhrink wather, or anything to moisten the morsel I'm atin? Wurrah, ma'am dear, make haste, it's goin' agin' the breath wid me!" "Oh, the sorra taste o' wather, Darby," said Owen; "sure this is Christmas-eve, you know: so you see, Darby, for ould acquaintance sake, an' that you may put up an odd prayer now an' thin for us, jist be thryin' this."
"Ah, avourneen, masther, but the larnin's a fine thing, any how; an' maybe 'tis yourself that hasn't the tongue in your head, an' can spake the tall, high-flown English; a wurrah, but your tongue hangs well, any how the Lord increase it!" "Lanty Cassidy, are you gettin' on wid your Stereometry? festina, mi discipuli; vocabo Homerum, mox atque mox.
"Blast you, you thick-headed vagabone! don't you know it's wrong to call me Mark Ratigan isn't Phil Hart my name now? no, I tell you, that I can't join you in a Leadhan wurrah nor I didn't think you wor such a d d cowardly hound as you are can't you die if you're goin' to die like a man, an' not like an ould woman? Be my sowl, Darby, my boy, afther this night I'll never trust you again.
"Not dead!" exclaimed the woman, with her body bent in the proper attitude, her hands extended, and the crying face turned with amazement to Darby. "Not dead! Wurrah, man alive, isn't he murdhered?" "Hell resave the matther for that!" replied Darby. "I tell you he's livin' an' will live I hope, barrin' your skirlin' dhrives the life that's in him out of him.
Oh, wurrah sthrue! my brave son, is it there you're lyin' wid us, avourneen machree!" and she again renewed her grief. "Oh, thin, I'm sure I forgive you," said Darby: "but keep your grief in for a start, till I say the De Prowhinjis over him, for the pace an' repose of his sowl. Kneel down all of yez."
"Wurrah, man alive, aren't you well?" "Oh, be the vestment," said Phelim, "what's this at all? Murdher, sheery, what'll I do! Oh, I'm very bad! At death's door, so I am! Be gorra, Mrs. Doran, I must be off." "Wurrah, Phelim dear, won't you stop till we settle everything?" "Oh, purshuin' to the ha'p'orth I can settle till I recover o' this murdherin' colic! All's asthray wid me in the inside.
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