Máirtín Ó Cadhain - Graveyard Clay - Cré na Cille

Jack the Scológ wouldn’t sing a song the other day. He has completely lost heart. No wonder, having spent his life with that bitch. And all the respect she had for him in the end was to get St. John’s Gospel to put him to death! …

When I told him that the other day he never said a word except “God would punish us …” I’d say he’s in a red rash of anger by now on account of how she treated him … And the little fool didn’t notice it at all himself. He was always and ever without guile. Otherwise he’d have realized that stiff-jointed little Nell was playing on him when she asked him to marry him. “I have Jack,” she said. “We’ll leave Big Brian to you, Caitríona” … But I’m closer to Jack now than she is. I can speak to him whenever I want to …

Only for Pádraig heeded Nóra Sheáinín’s daughter I’d be buried in the Pound Plot beside him. That sharp-tongued Siúán the Shop is beside him now. She’ll give me a bad name. She has told him a bellyful of lies about me already. That’s why he’s so reluctant. I wouldn’t mind but the fair maid of the Filthy Feet is trying to coax him into her Rotary! And Bid Shorcha and Little Cáit are forever whining about his funeral. You’d think the poor man was responsible for their death. Not only that, but they’re showering praises to the clay-top on the pussface who got them up out of their beds …

Muraed Phroinsiais and Ash-Potatoes Cite have cramps in their tongues praising Nell too, and so have Bríd Terry and Seáinín Liam, the Useless Red-head and Máirtín Pockface. But they won’t open their mouth to me because I won’t praise her. No. Not as much as a word. You’d think it was unlucky to speak to me. It would be great if a person would fight manfully and openly with you … This graveyard is worse now than the places the Frenchman was talking about the other day: Belsen, Buchenwald and Dachau …

— … Had I been alive, indeed, I’d have been at your funeral, Jack the Scológ. I owed it to …

— … Hold on now, my good man. Did you ever hear what nickname Conán 21had for Oscar? …

— By the oak of this coffin, Bid Shorcha, I gave Caitríona the pound, and I never saw as much as a penny of it …

— Spouting lies you are, you little scabby arse! Muraed! Muraed! Did you hear what the Hag of the Ash-Potatoes said again, Muraed? Muraed, I say! Hello, Muraed! Why don’t you answer me? … Muraed, I say! … You won’t speak? I’m a prattler, you say! … I thrive on stirring up quarrels! … There was peace and quiet in the graveyard clay till I arrived, you say! How shameless of you, Muraed, to ruin a person’s reputation like that! … I have the place like the Feast of Bricriú with my lies! Now, is that so, Muraed! You didn’t have to travel far from your own creek to find liars. I never peddled gossip or lies, thanks be to God! …

Hello, Muraed! Do you hear me? Your own kind were the liars … You’ll take no heed of my impertinence from now on, you say! Impertinence, oh! It’s the blatant truth! Hello, Muraed! Muraed! … Devil the talking, then! Hello, Muraed! … Why don’t you wake up your tongue?

Hello, Little Cáit! … Little Cáit! … This isn’t very neighbourly, Little Cáit … Seáinín Liam! … Do you hear me, Seáinín Liam? … Devil as much as a word! …

Hello, Bríd Terry! … Bríd Terry! … Tell me, Bríd Terry, what did I ever do to upset you?

Máirtín Pockface! … Máirtín Pockface! … Cite! … Cite! … This is Caitríona. Caitríona Pháidín … Cite, I say!

Jack! Jack! … Jack the Scológ! … Hello, Jack the Scológ, it’s me, Caitríona Pháidín … You Pound Plot People, call Jack the Scológ! Tell him Caitríona Pháidín is calling him! Jack, I say! … Siúán the Shop, Siúán! May God bless you Siúán, and call Jack the Scológ! … He’s beside you there … Siúán! … Jack! … Jack! Jack! … I’ll explode, explode, I’ll explode, I’ll explode …

1

— Sky, sea and land are mine …

— Mine are the hind side, the down side, the internal side, the least side. Only the peripheries and the accidents are yours …

— Glowing sun, shining moon, sparkling star are mine …

— Mine are the mysterious depths of every cavern, the rugged bottom of every abyss, the dark heart of every stone, the unknown innards of every clay, the hidden ducts of every flower …

— Southerly aspect, brightness, love, red of rose and the maiden’s loving laugh are mine …

— Mine are northerly aspect, darkness, gloom, root system that sends growth to rose leaf, and arterial system that brings the gangrenous blood of depression to erupt on the smiling cheek …

— Egg, pollen, seed, produce are mine …

— Mine are …

2

— … Monsieur Churchill a dit qu’il retournerait pour libérer la France. Vous comprenez, mon ami? …

— He’s losing his Irish again fast, since he joined the higher learning …

— … I fell off a stack of oats, Sweet-talking Stiofán …

— … With my own two ears I heard “Haw Haw” 1promise that the Graf Spee would be revenged …

— … The Big Butcher came to my funeral, Soft-spoken Stiofán …

— … Hitler himself, his very own self, will come over to England and with his own two hands he’ll stuff a little bomb about the size of a loaf of bread down those well-filled trousers of Churchill’s …

— … Administering spiritual assistance to people is what I do. If you think you need spiritual assistance at any time …

— I will not, I’m telling you. And I’m warning you in time, Big Colm’s daughter, to leave the black heretics here to me, and not to poke your nose into the business in any way, or upon my soul …

— … The Lord between us and all harm, if England is isolated like that, where will the people find a market? You have no land at the top of the village …

— … Mon ami , the United Nations, England, les États Unis, la Russe, et les Français Libres are defending human rights against … quel est le mot? … Against the barbarism des Boches nazifiés . I’ve already told you about the concentration camps. Belsen …

— Nell Pháidín is on Churchill’s side. Fowlers and anglers from England, of course …

— She was always treacherous, the little bitch! Up Hitler! Up Hitler! Up Hitler! Do you think if he comes over he’ll raze her new house to the ground?

— The Postmistress is on Hitler’s side too. She says the Postmistress is a most important executive in Germany and that if she suspects anybody it’s part of her duty to read that person’s letters …

— Billyboy the Post is on Hitler’s side too. He says …

— Oh, the dishevelled little upstart! What would you expect? Of course, that fellow has no belief in private wealth or the traditional living standards aspired to in Western Europe. He’s a Communist, a non-traditionalist, a revolutionary, an Antichrist , a blackguardly little fart, an evil spirit just like Hitler himself. Up Churchill! … Shut your cocky mouth, Nóra Sheáinín! You’re a disgrace to womanhood! To say that dirty knobnose is a romantic …

— Well said there, Master! Let the Fair Darling of the Filthy Feet have it hot and heavy now! …

— Red-haired Tom says about Tomás Inside …

— Tomás Inside? What side is Tomás Inside on? It’s a wise man would say what side Tomás Inside is …

— … Do you think I don’t know that? …

— Nobody would rightly know it but someone from the same village as them … Tomás Inside was as fond of that burrow of a hovel of his as a king would be of his throne.