— Oh, there’s no danger, Caitríona, my neighbour. That will all be fine …
— But look at where they buried yourself, Billyboy …
— The poor creature didn’t know what she was doing … Easy on, Master! Easy on! Don’t worry, Caitríona. That hardy annual is still as healthy as ivy …
— His likes don’t last long at all in the end. Holy Mother of God tonight. I would have less aversion to the Earl’s little black! … What’s this, Billyboy? Another corpse! Oh, woe forever, Billyboy my dearest friend, if it’s him. Listen! …
— Hi, lads! Seán Chite from Donagh’s Village has arrived …
— The place he’s buried is …
— The great Prophecy Professor of the Western World is laid low and his prophetic skull laid at Beartla’s feet …
— Bloody tear and ’ounds, what better pillow for his old skull?
— Seán Chite, what’s your opinion of the world now, or do you think the prophecy is coming true? …
— I’ll keen you now, Seán Chite, as befits your profession and fame … Alas and woe! Alas and woe! …
— … Arrah, to hell with it, Seán Chite! Quit your foolish talk about Redspot O’Donnell.10 Will England be blasted to hell into the air in a squall of ashes in this war? Is that in your prophecy? Hi! Son of Blackleg, give him a crack of your clumsy foot on his prophetic skull …
— Oh! Billyboy, darling! … I won’t rest easy in the graveyard clay …
— Don’t be worried, Caitríona. The priest has ordered a brand-new map of the graveyard to be made. Road-End’s old lady was complaining recently. “Weren’t the soggy lumps from Sive’s Rocks hard up for space,” she said, “when they laid the legs of the corpse across the delicate guts of my old man …”
— Oh! That’s the corpse that won’t have a coffin or a sheet for long! See how he stole my little lump-hammer! …
— … Caitríona my dear, the cross will be put over you in any case …
— Oh! If only they would speed it up, Billyboy. If they’d speed it up before the old scold dies …
— It was worth waiting for, Caitríona. Everybody who saw it says it’s beautiful. The priest himself went in right away to look at it, and the Small Master and my … the Schoolmistress, were in there the other Saturday, to scrutinize the inscription in Irish.
— Did you tell that, Billyboy, to Nóra Sheáinín and to Cite and to Red-haired Tom? … Oh! Billyboy dear, if it’s not put over me …
— It will be, Caitríona. Don’t be worried, neighbour. It’s been ready for a long time, but they were waiting to put up yours and Jack the Scológ’s together …
— My own cross and Jack the Scológ’s cross going up together …
— And Tomás Inside’s cross is what’s causing the delay now …
— My own cross and Jack the Scológ’s cross …
— Everybody says, Caitríona, that yours is nicer than Cite’s cross, and Nóra Sheáinín’s cross, and even Siúán the Shop’s cross …
— My own cross and Jack the Scológ’s cross …
— It’s nicer than Jack the Scológ’s cross, Caitríona. My … the Schoolmistress says she’d prefer it to Peadar the Pub’s cross …
— It’s of Island limestone so, Billyboy? …
— That’s a thing I don’t know, neighbour. In McCormack’s in Brightcity it was bought, anyhow …
— Bloody tear and ’ounds for a story, how would that little pipsqueak know, and he laid up on the flat of his back this long while? …
— If it’s not of Island limestone, Billyboy, it’s not worth a blind nut to me …
— I thought the Island limestone was used up …
— Shut your mouth, you little brat! …
— It is of Island limestone! …
— It’s not of Island limestone! …
— I’m telling you it’s of Island limestone! …
— I’m telling you it’s not of Island limestone! …
— They don’t have crosses of Island limestone in McCormack’s. In Moran’s they have them …
— Oh, what are you talking about? Didn’t Nóra Sheáinín’s cross and Cite’s cross come out of there, and aren’t they of Island limestone! …
— And Bríd Terry’s cross …
— And Siúán the Shop’s cross …
— I heard sure enough, Caitríona, my neighbour, that the cross your Nell is putting on order for herself is of Island limestone …
— … The Big Butcher from Brightcity came to my funeral. He often told me that he had regard for me on account of the regard his father had for my father …
— … Nóra Sheáinín’s cross is of Island limestone …
— … I was Twenty and I led with the Ace of Hearts …
— … Cite’s cross …
— … La Libération …
— … Bríd Terry’s cross … Siúán the Shop’s cross …
— I was the first corpse into this graveyard. Don’t you all think the oldest inhabitant should have something to say? Permission to speak, then! Permission to speak! …
— Allow him to speak! …
— Tear away! …
— … Nell’s cross …
— Speak! …
— Speak now, you blockhead! …
— … Neither my cross nor yours, Jack the Scológ …
— … After all your bluster for the past thirty-one years, looking for permission to speak …
— … True for you, Master dear! Now you’re talking! Two dogs …
— … is of Island limestone …
— … You have permission to speak now, but it seems you prefer to be deathly dumb …
— … Neither your cross nor mine is of Island limestone …
THE END
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Texts by Máirtín Ó Cadhain
1939. Idir Shúgradh agus Dáiríre. Dublin: Oifig an tSoláthair.
1948. An Braon Broghach. Dublin: Oifig an tSoláthair.
1949. Cré na Cille: Aithris i ndeich n-eadarlúid. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1953. Cois Caoláire. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1963. Bás nó Beatha. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1964. Irish above Politics. Dublin: Press Cuchulainn.
1964. Mr. Hill/Mr. Tara. Dublin: N.p.
1964. Cosnaítear an Creideamh-Chu[a]la Tú faoi Rath Cairn? Drogheda:
Clódóirí Dhroichead Átha.
1966. An Aisling. Dublin: Coiste Cuimhneacháin Náisiúnta.
1967. An tSraith ar Lár. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1969. Páipéir Bhána agus Páipéir Bhreaca. Dublin: An Clóchomhar.
1970. An tSraith dhá Tógáil. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1970. Gluaiseacht na Gaeilge: Gluaiseacht ar Strae. Dublin: Misneach.
1973. As an nGéibheann: Litreacha chuig Tomás Bairéad. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1977. An tSraith Tógtha. Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill.
1995. Athnuachan. Dublin: Coiscéim.
1999. Tone: Inné agus Inniu. Dublin: Coiscéim.
2002. An Ghaeilge Bheo/Destined to Pass. Dublin: Coiscéim.
2002. Barbed Wire. Dublin: Coiscéim.