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"And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you read in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run low, and so with a tranquil heart to bed, to rest. He knows and will call in His own good time. You too have fought the good fight and played loyally your man's part. Sir, to you my hand. Well done, thou good and faithful servant!" (U14.1337)
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"And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of arresting in her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries," (U14.1366)
This is 'La Vierge aux Cerises' by Annibale Carracci (c.1593), suggested by Harald Beck; the painting is in the Louvres Museum (Paris, France). There is also a 'Madonna of the Cherries' (c.1515) by Titian in the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Vienna, Austria). |
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"a comely brace of them pendent from an ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin so daintily against the cool ardent fruit." (U14.1369) |
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"They are out, tumultuously, off for a minute's race, all bravely legging it, Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal." (U14.1398) |
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"Them all being gone, a glance of motherwit helping, he whispers close in going: Madam, when comes the storkbird for thee?" (U14.1404)
The storkbird had come a few days earlier, June 3rd 1904, for a woman in Argentina :) |
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"Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. Pshaw, I tell thee!" (U14.1419)
'Darby and Joan' is a 19c. song with Lyrics by Frederic E. Weatherly and Music by L. Molloy. An old childless couple reminisces on their life, and their fifty years of marriage. |
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"Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not worth a cracked kreutzer. Copulation without population! No, say I! Herod's slaughter of the innocents were the truer name." (U14.1421) |
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"Thou sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison." (U14.1430) |
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"Drink, man, an udderful! Mother's milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead, rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzlingden, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan's land. Thy cow's dug was tough, what? Ay, but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. To her, old patriarch! Pap! Per deam Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum!" (U14.1433) |
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"All off for a buster, armstrong, hollering down the street. Bonafides." (U14.1440) |
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"Slattery's mounted foot." (U14.1450)
The song 'Slattery's Mounted Fut' by Percy French (1854-1920) celebrates drinking and staying alive. It starts: 'You've heard o' Julius Ceasar, and the great Napolean, too, An' how the Cork Militia beat the Turks at Waterloo; But there's a page of glory that, as yet, remains uncut, An' that's the Martial story o' the Shlathery's Mounted Fut.' |
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"Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are (atitudes!) parching. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beerbeef trample the bibles. When for Irelandear." (U14.1457) |
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"Query. Who's astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. Declare misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this week gone. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Übermensch. Dittoh. Five number ones." (U14.1465) |
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"Les petites femmes. Bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. Hauding Sara by the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. What do you want for ninepence? Machree, Macruiskeen. Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull alltogether. Ex!" (U14.1494) |
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"Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John Thomas, her spouse. No fake, old man Leo. S'elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. There's a great big holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel, I ses, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I vil get misha mishinnah. Through yerd our lord, Amen." (U14.1522) |