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Прах Анджелы

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one in the world
can interfere with it.
Fill your mind with rubbish,
and it’ll rot your head.
You might be poor,
your shoes might be broken,
but your mind--
your mind is a palace.
And McCourt gets the ball,
he goes round one man...
he goes up to the second man--
Peggy! Sean!
Kathleen,
come in for your tea.
Come in for
the lovely leg of lamb...
and the gorgeous green peas,
and the floury white potatoes.
Oh, shut up,
will you, woman?
It’s a low-class mind
to torment your neighbors...
when there’s nothing
but bread and tea we have.
Get off to work in England
like the rest of our husbands.
Go and help England
win a war?
I wouldn’t give the English
the steam off my pish.
No, you’d rather
drink the dole...
and watch your sons
run around all skin and bone...
with their arse hanging out
of their trousers.
Kathleen,
come in for your tea.
If I could work,
I’d be in the English factories.
A factory’s no place
for a woman.
Sitting on your arse
is no place for a man.
And the game restarts
in the second half.
He’s got the ball.
He’s going on the run.
Oh, you got
the ball off him.
Get off me, will you?
I’m worn out.
That’s the end of it for me.
No more children.
A good Catholic woman should perform
her wifely duties.
Oh, feck off, will you?
You’ll face
eternal damnation, Angela.
Well, as long as there
are no more children,
eternal damnation sounds just fine
to me, Malachy.
Come on, lads, come on.
You’ll miss the train.
You’ll miss a good job.
Come on.
We’ve got the Guinness, and we’ve
got the Jameson in England, all right?
Right. Uh--
Remember your religious duties.
And above all, you obey
your mother, right?
You’re the man
of the house now, Francis.
Mind yourself.
Come on. Let’s go.
Mam said all
we had to do was wait two weeks...
for the telegram
with the money order.
Soon we’d have enough money
for new boots and coats,
ham, cabbage
and potatoes for dinner,
electric light and maybe even a lavatory
like they have in America.
Now that Dad
is gone to England,
sure I your troubles
would be over.
Surely.
– Hello. Thank you very much.
– Hi.
– Thank you.
– There he is!
Hey, wait!
Has ours come? McCourt?
– No.
– Are you sure? It’s our first telegram.
It should be for about three pounds
or maybe more.
– Sorry.
– Can you look in your pouch again?
I feckin’ did already.
I’ve nothing for you.
– Who’s a good boy?
– Alphie!
Begging for leftovers
is worse than the dole.
Worse than the St. Vincent
de Paul Charity. My own mother begging.
This is the worst kind
of shame--
begging for the leftovers
from the priests’ dinner.
Like tinkers holding up
their scabby children on street corners.
Worse than borrowing
from the money lender, Mrs. Finucane.
There was
only one thing for it.
I had to get a job.
This is the best morning
of all, Frankie,
Saturday half day.
We start at 8:00 and finish
by the time the Angelus rings at 12:00.
The dipsy doodle
is the thing to beware
The dipsy doodle
is gonna get in your hair
And if it gets you
it couldn’tbe worse
The things you say will
all come out in reverse
Don’t go up the mine,
Manny
That’s the way
the dipsy doodle works
The dipsy doodle
is so easy to find
It’s almost always
at the back of your mind
You never know it’s there
until it’s too late
And then you get
in such a terrible state
The moon jumped
over the cow, hey diddle
That’s the way
the dipsy doodle works
The man who delivered 16 hundred weight
of coal deserves a pint.
And the boy who helped him
deserves a lemonade.
Your eyes look atrocious--
like two piss-holes in the snow.
– It’s the coal dust, Uncle Pa.
– You’re a great man, Frank.
You can help me
every Thursday after school.
There’s a shilling for you.
More power to your elbow,
Frankie.
He’ll be taking your job yet,
you know, John.
He called me Frank, not Frankie.
For the first time,
I feel like a man.
A man with a shilling
in his pocket.
A man
Прах Анджелы Прах Анджелы

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