‘An’ I was! Annie Bragin was woild
wid indignation. There was not a name that a
dacint woman cud use that was not given my way.
I’ve had my Colonel walk roun’ me like
a cooper roun’ a cask for fifteen minutes in
Ord’ly Room, bekaze I wint into the Corner Shop
an’ unstrapped lewnatic; but all I iver tuk
from his rasp av a tongue was ginger-pop to fwhat
Annie tould me. An’ that, mark you, is the
way av a woman.
‘Whin ut was done for want av breath, an’
Annie was bendin’ over her husband, I sez:
“‘Tis all thrue, an’ I’m a
blayguard an’ you’re an honest woman;
but will you tell him of wan service that I did you?”
‘As I finished speakin’ the Corp’ril
man came up to the veranda, an’ Annie Bragin
shquealed. The moon was up, an’ we cud see
his face.
‘"I can’t find her,” sez the Corp’ril
man, an’ wint out like the puff av a candle.
‘"Saints stand betune us an’ evil!”
sez Bragin, crossin’ himself; “that’s
Flahy av the Tyrone.”
‘"Who was he?” I sez, “for he has
given me a dale av fightin’ this day.”
’Bragin tould us that Flahy was a Corp’ril
who lost his wife av cholera in those quarters three
years gone, an’ wint mad, an’ walked
afther they buried him, huntin’ for her.
‘"Well,” sez I to Bragin, “he’s
been hookin’ out av Purgathory to kape company
wid Mrs. Bragin ivry evenin’ for the last fortnight.
You may tell Mrs. Quinn, wid my love, for I know that
she’s been talkin’ to you, an’ you’ve
been listenin’, that she ought to ondherstand
the differ ‘twixt a man an’ a ghost.
She’s had three husbands,” sez I, “an’
you’ve got a wife too good for you.
Instid av which you lave her to be boddered by ghosts
an’—an’ all manner av evil spirruts.
I’ll niver go talkin’ in the way av politeness
to a man’s wife again. Good-night to you
both,” sez I; an’ wid that I wint away,
havin’ fought wid woman, man and Divil all in
the heart av an hour. By the same token I gave
Father Victor wan rupee to say a mass for Flahy’s
soul, me havin’ discommoded him by shticking
my fist into his systim.’
‘Your ideas of politeness seem rather large,
Mulvaney,’ I said.
‘That’s as you look at ut,’ said
Mulvaney calmly; ’Annie Bragin niver cared for
me. For all that, I did not want to leave anything
behin’ me that Bragin could take hould av to
be angry wid her about—whin an honust wurrd
cud ha’ cleared all up. There’s nothing
like opin-speakin’. Orth’ris, ye
scutt, let me put me oi to that bottle, for my throat’s
as dhry as whin I thought I wud get a kiss from Annie
Bragin. An’ that’s fourteen years
gone! Eyah! Cork’s own city an’
the blue sky above ut—an’ the times
that was—the times that was!’
Der jungere Uhlanen
Sit round mit open mouth
While Breitmann tell dem stdories
Of fightin’ in the South;
Und gif dem moral lessons,
How before der battle pops,
Take a little prayer to Himmel
Und a goot long drink of Schnapps.
Hans
Breitmann’s Ballads.
