— Fireside Tom in his own house? In his own house … Fireside Tom in his own house. It could be that he is. It could be the case when all is said and done, for all that. You’d need to be very smart …
— You’re a piss artist, that’s what you are, Redser Tom! Who has Fireside Tom’s land? …
— Fireside Tom? Holy God, he has land alright. Fireside Tom has land, no doubt about that. Fireside Tom has a bit of land, not a word of a lie. He has some …
— But who has his land now? Does Tom still have it himself, or does our Patrick have it, or Nell? …
— Paddy? Nell? Fireside Tom? That’s it now, Paddy. Nell …
— Cut out the pig acting and just tell me who has Fireside Tom’s land! …
— Some people say that Paddy has it. Some people say that Nell has it. They say many things that are neither here nor there …
— But you’re absolutely sure that Fireside Tom himself doesn’t have the land? … You are certain, Redser Tom, certain that Fireside Tom himself doesn’t have the land? …
— Fireside Tom’s land, is it? Holy God, it could be, maybe so. You’d need to be a wise man to know who has Fireside Tom’s land now …
— You’re a shyster scumbucket piece of shit! That’s a great present for me altogether: Redser Tom. A heap of crap! That serious illness brought you here. If it hadn’t you wouldn’t have come here until you melted. Your tongue wouldn’t have killed you anyway! You’re just more excrement in the graveyard, you ginger piece of poop! You snivelling smudge of snot! Fuck off! Get stuffed! Get the …
3.
— … Fell from a stack of corn …
— … A white-headed mare …
— … I hope the devil rides you all with your wasted waffle! Don’t you see there’s something bugging me, I don’t know if your one at home would give the holding to the eldest son? …
— … I had a slice of land up on the top of the town …
—“The daughter of Martin John More, She was as good as any man …”
— … Monsieur Churchill a dit qu’il retournerait pour libérer la France, la terre sacrée. Mon ami, the French Gaullistes and les Américains and les Anglais will occupy la France. That is promis by Messieurs Churchill et Roosevelt … That is a prophétie … Prophétie … A prophecy, je crois, en Irlandais …
— The Property, that’s what we always called the bright meadows of the Pleasant Plain. That is the correct Old Irish for it …
— Ah, come on, listen to her again! …
— It was always and ever in the prophecy that the valley would be as high as the hill. I remember the time when people were scared shitless not to doff their hats to the bailiff and to the Earl’s steward, never mind himself. More likely now people expect them to doff their hats to them. No word of a lie, I saw him the other day kowtowing to Nell Paudeen.
— The dirty yoke! The uppity sly slag! She gave him socks and chickens all for free so that he’d get her the road. There were no flies on her. She knew full well that it would be to his benefit to go hunting …
— There was another day, and I saw him kowtowing to Nell Paudeen.
— The Earl is a cultured man. Honest …
— Honest, my arse, Toejam Noreen of the smelly soles! …
— … There was an “evil omen” in the prophecy. That was the mine that killed us …
— … That Antichrist would come before the end of the world and take away a third of the people. My hunch is that we’re close to that now. And just look at the state of the world today: those on the dole gorging themselves on meat on a Friday as gluttonous as any other black heretics …
— … And before the end of the world there’d be a miller with two heels on one foot. Peter Dickey, his name. That’s what I always heard said. I was talking to the Junior Master, just after he was appointed to our school. I raised it with him. “Do you know what,” he says, “that’s just exactly the way it is with us we have it.” He told me the precise place too, if I could only remember it. Somewhere out about there, anyway. “That’s it, I’ll tell you no lie,” he says. “I know him well, and there’s not a word of a lie in it: he has two heels on the one foot. He’s a miller, and his name is Peter Dickey …”
— … And everyone would have to dip their bread in the sweat of their own brow. And, isn’t that what they do? …
— O yes, they do! Look, there’s Billy the Postman dipping himself in the Old Master’s sweat, and do you actually think that Nell Paudeen’s youngfella, who got hundreds of pounds, is dipping himself in his own sweat? And Fireside Tom dipping himself in the sweat of Caitriona and Nell Paudeen. It won’t be too long now before Nell dips into Baba’s …
— Ababoona! May she never live that long! …
— And somebody called the Airy Fairy would be flying over Ireland. And isn’t he? …
— That’s not Colm Cille’s prophecy at all, what you’re spouting …
— You liar, of course it is! That’s Colm Cille’s prophecy every bit of it …
— Forget about Colm Cille’s prophecy unless you have the right book. Only one book is the right book …
— That’s the one I have: The True Prophecies of Saint Columkille.
— Hang on a minute now. Let me get a word in. I’m a writer. The True Prophecies of Saint Columkille, that was written to make fools of us all …
— That’s a lie, you powder puff!
— Oh, it’s a lie, and a big bad black bastard of a lie! …
— I’m a writer …
— Even if you had written more than would blot out the sky, you’re still telling lies. A holy man like Colm Cille writing a book to make fools of us all! …
— Now you have it! A saintly man. You are insulting the faith. You’re a heretic. No wonder that Antichrist is ensconced smack bang in the middle of the place. Do you think that God exists at all? …
— The old man of the graveyard. Let me speak …
— Only one person now had the true prophecy of Colm Cille: John Kitty from Bally Donough …
— How handy is that! And your own cousin and all …
— Rowty in Bally Donough knows it also …
— It seems that all the prophets hightailed it off to the nettly wastes of Bally Donough, and that it’s a sacred ground now …
— At least the one and only true prophecy of Colm Cille is there, something you can’t say about the flea-infested bumpy breasts of your own place …
— Our own Willy, the guy in our town land, he’s a great prophet. I’d spend my whole life, and another one, listening to him. He talks a good deal of sense, and much of what he said has come true already …
— That’s the false prophecy of Willy Clogher Savvy.
— It’s not a false prophecy. It’s the true and unadulterated prophecy of Colm Cille, the last one he ever made. But Willy often said that only one-third of it would come true, because Colm Cille left the other two-thirds to be unfulfilled …
— You’re a liar! Colm Cille was a holy man …
— Oh, don’t be in any way surprised if you see the Antichrist coming any day now!
— God save you all and your Colm Cille! We have the prophecy of the Dog Hound Gurrier in our place …
— And we have Conan’s prophecy in our place …
— And we have the prophecy of the Son of the Sea Pirate’s Stuffed Hole in our place …
— I heard Jaundiced Charlie’s prophecy from a guy from Kin Teer …