Difference between revisions of "Page 25"

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m (wikify some terms)
m (wikify some terms)
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  Your fame is [[spreading]] like [[Basilico's ointment]] since the [[Fintan_Lalors|Fintan]]
 
  Your fame is [[spreading]] like [[Basilico's ointment]] since the [[Fintan_Lalors|Fintan]]
 
  [[Fintan_Lalors|Lalors]] piped you [[overborder]] and there's whole households be-
 
  [[Fintan_Lalors|Lalors]] piped you [[overborder]] and there's whole households be-
  yond the [[Bothnians]] and they calling names after you. The men-
+
  yond the [[Bothnians]] and they calling names after you. The [[menhere's|men-]]
  here's always talking of you sitting around on the pig's cheeks
+
  [[menhere's|here's]] always talking of you [[sitting around]] on the pig's cheeks
 
  under the sacred [[rooftree]], over the bowls of memory where every
 
  under the sacred [[rooftree]], over the bowls of memory where every
 
  hollow holds a hallow, with a pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon
 
  hollow holds a hallow, with a pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon

Revision as of 14:16, 7 June 2008

TOC

Page 24 Page 26

you presents, won't we, fenians? And it isn't our spittle we'll stint
you of, is it, druids? Not shabbty little imagettes, pennydirts and
dodgemyeyes you buy in the soottee stores. But offerings of the
field. Mieliodories, that Doctor Faherty, the madison man,
taught to gooden you. Poppypap's a passport out. And honey is
the holiest thing ever was, hive, comb and earwax, the food for
glory, (mind you keep the pot or your nectar cup may yield too
light!) and some goat's milk, sir, like the maid used to bring you.
Your fame is spreading like Basilico's ointment since the Fintan
Lalors piped you overborder and there's whole households be-
yond the Bothnians and they calling names after you. The men-
here's always talking of you sitting around on the pig's cheeks
under the sacred rooftree, over the bowls of memory where every
hollow holds a hallow, with a pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon
House. And admiring to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat
on high is the mark of your manument. All the toethpicks ever
Eirenesians chewed on are chips chepped from that battery
block. If you were bowed and soild and letdown itself from the
oner of the load it was that paddyplanters might pack up plenty and
when you were undone in every point fore the laps of goddesses
you showed our labourlasses how to free was easy. The game old
Gunne, they do be saying, (skull !) that was a planter for you, a
spicer of them all. Begog but he was, the G.O.G! He's dudd-
andgunne now and we're apter finding the sores of his sedeq
but peace to his great limbs, the buddhoch, with the last league
long rest of him, while the millioncandled eye of Tuskar sweeps
the Moylean Main ! There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes
and Brettland, no, nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No,
nor a king nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or hung king.
That you could fell an elmstree twelve urchins couldn't ring
round and hoist high the stone that Liam failed. Who but a Mac-
cullaghmore the reise of our fortunes and the faunayman at the
funeral to compass our cause? If you was hogglebully itself and
most frifty like you was taken waters still what all where was
your like to lay the cable or who was the batter could better
Your Grace? Mick Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to