Chapter IX

An’ thim evenin’s I felt to be hatin’ whatever I seen or I heard,
So I’d slinge away into the house, where I’d nowan to give me a word,
An’ the corners is black at noonday. But I couldn’t shut out o’ me sight
How the west where the sun had gone by would be swimmin’ brimful wid clear light,
An’ as fast as it dhrained off the stars ’ud be slippin’ this side o’ the sky,
Like the rain-dhrops that rowl down and hang from the blade-points; it’s Nelly and I
’Ud be watchin’ thim many a time; an’ sure now she was watchin’ wid _him_,
An’ what differ to her? But a wolf whin he’s tearin’ a man limb from limb
Might ha’ frindlier feelin’s than me, whin I fancied the two o’ thim there,
Sthrollin’ aisy, while Felix’d be stickin’ red poppies in Nelly’s black hair,
As I seen him wan evenin’, or pullin’ her kingcups along be the pool,
An’ they both talkin’ low, an’ it’s like enough laughin’ at me for a fool
That had tuk off to sulk be himself. I’d ha’ sworn I was hearin’ him laugh;
An’ I wanst grabbed me blackthorn that laned be the wall, an’ I snapped it in half
Like a withy, ere I knew what I done, and it thick as your wristbone. An’ thin
There ’d be Granny, that sat on the step wid her knittin’, would keep peerin’ in,
Thinkin’ maybe I’d speak to her pleasant some while; for the crathur was scared,
An’ she dursn’t so much as be askin’ what ailed me; but little I cared,
Or it’s plased in a manner I was wid the notion I’d somebody vexed;
An’ I’d often scarce open me lips, good or bad, from wan light till the next.
Och, but slow wint the time, an’ I crouched in the dark like a baste in his lair,
Ragin’ crueler than bastes, barrin’ divils. Sure mad ye’d go, mad wid despair,
If ye hadn’t the thought that the end o’ the end, whatsoe’er may befall,
Is nought else save a paice and a quiet, where ye’ll disremember it all.

X

Well, wan night, comin’ home agin sundown, I met wid some girls at the gate
Beyant Reilly’s, an’ Biddy O’Loughlin: ‘Och Jimmy,’ sez she, ‘man, ye’re late;
For we seen thim just now, passin’ by near the pool at the fut o’ the hill,
Your sweetheart an’ _her_ sweetheart, thick as two thieves. Ye might find thim there still,
If ye stirred yourself,’ sez she. Sez I: ‘Find a sweetheart, me lass, o’ your own,
And it’s thin ye’ll be maybe contint to let other folks’ sweethearts alone.’
So sez I; but I thought to meself I’d turn back be the way that I came,
An’ keep out o’ the sight o’ the hole. But it’s there I wint sthraight all the same.