you write a letter? – I can, Mrs. Finucane. I’ll give you three pence for every letter you write, and three pence if it brings in a payment. Come on Thursday. Bring your own paper and envelopes with you. “O’Brien, Donnolley, Meagher, Hannon, old Mrs. Keneally, Mulcahy, Ahern.” We’ll see how you do with that lot for a start. Threaten them, boy. Threaten the life out of them. How does this sound? “Dear Mrs. O’Brien: In as much as you have not seen fit to pay me what you owe me, I may be forced to resort to legal action. There’s your son, Michael, parading around the world in his new suit, which I paid for, while I myself have barely a crust to keep body and soul together.” “I am sure you don’t want to languish in the dungeons of Limerick jail, far from friends and family. I remain yours in lit-- lit--” – What are these words, boy? – Litigious anticipation. That’s a powerful letter. This word, “in as much.” That’s a holy terror of a word. What does it mean? It means, “this is your last chance.” She gives me money for stamps, but I deliver the letters myself and keep the money. What class of a demon would torment her own kind with a letter like that? It’s truly awful. What’s up with Mrs. Hannon? That old bitch Finucane sent her a threatening letter. Look. People who write letters like that should be boiled in oil... and then have their fingernails pulled out by blind people. That’s great. Thanks very much. Next, please. I’m sorry for their troubles, but there’s no other way for me to save the money for the trip to America. If the whole of Ireland was dying of hunger, I wouldn’t touch this money in the post office. Thanks, John. Listen here to me, men. Listen a second. This is my nephew here, Frankie McCourt, the son of Angela Sheehan, the sister of my wife, having his first pint. Here’s to your health and long life, Frankie. May you live to enjoy the pint, but not too much, eh? Slow down, slow down. Don’t drink it all at once. In Mountjoy jail one Monday morning High upon the gallows tree Kevin Barry gave his young life For the cause of liberty Just a lad of 18 summers And no-- What kind of state is that to come home in? Up, boys, up! The Red Branch Knights! The Fenian men! The glorious I.R.A.! I can’t believe you. It’s your father you’ve become. Tonight-- Tonight, I had me first pint. You should be ashamed of yourself. My first pint with Uncle Pa. Uncle Pa should know better. No father around to get me my first pint. Your father was no good to anyone, and neither are you. You’re just like him, you drunken feck! I’d rather be like my father than like your Laman Griffin! Mind your tongue. You’re drunk. Mind your own tongue. You and Laman Griffin! You slut! You’ve a mouth on you worse than your drunken eejit father! Better to be like my drunken eejit father than like... that fat, disgustin’ shite Laman Griffin, who you crept up to every night there back at Rosbrien! – Shut up! – Laman Griffin. Laman Griffin. Up in the loft with Laman Griffin! Squeak, squeak, squeak, with fat Laman Griffin rollin’ on top of you! – Shut up! Shut up! – You fuckin’ shut up, you slut! My child. Tell me what troubles you. – I’m 16 today, Father. – Mm-hmm? – I drank my first pint last night. – Yeah. I hit my mother. God help us. But He will forgive you. Is there anything else? I can’t tell you, Father. Would you like to go to confession? I-I can’t, Father. – I did terrible things. – Well, you can tell St. Francis. You can tell St. Francis. We’ll sit here, and you can tell St. Francis... all the things that trouble you. I tell St. Francis about Margaret, Oliver, Eugene. He treads the upper-- My father singing “Kevin Barry” and bringing home no money. My father sending no money from England. Theresa on the sofa. My terrible sins of interfering with myself, wankin’ all over Limerick and beyond. ------------------------------ Читайте также: - текст Ты, живущий на английском - текст Строгий юноша на английском - текст Женщина из Токио на английском - текст Хищник 2 на английском - текст Звёздный путь: Восстание на английском |