Máirtín Ó Cadhain - Graveyard Clay - Cré na Cille

— Good man yourself, Master! Now you’re talking, neighbour! Peace and quiet, Master. That’s what matters most in the graveyard clay, Master: peace and quiet. If I’d known that she’d bury me cheek by jowl with you, I’d never have married her …

— I don’t give a red curse what anybody does! No matter how she behaved, that was a hell of a mean, low-down thing for you to do, you blackguard, you thief, you ruffian! Into the gas chamber you should be shovelled, you windbag, you swine, you …

— Now, Master dear, calm down, calm down! …

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— If I’d lived another while …

— It was a fair exchange for you …

— If I’d lived another while myself …

— It was a fair exchange for you …

— I’d be getting the pension on the following St. Patrick’s Day …

— Another three months and I’d be in the new house …

— God help us forever and ever! If I’d lived another while, maybe my heap of bones would have been brought back east of Brightcity …

— … I would have married in two weeks’ time. But you stabbed me through the edge of my liver, you whetstone of murder. If I’d lived another while, I wouldn’t have left a One-Ear Breed alive …

— I’d have taken the Woody Hillside land off my brother. Mannion the Counsellor told me I would …

— I thought I wouldn’t die till I got even with Road-End Man about my seaweed …

— Oh! May the devil pierce him! If I’d lived another while, I’d go in to Mannion the Counsellor and make a secure will. Then I’d turf the eldest son out to hell and get a wife for the other son, Tom. Then I’d serve a summons on the porter-swilling Glutton about his donkeys, and if I got no satisfaction in court, I’d drive spikes through their hooves. Then I’d keep watch before daybreak till I caught the Road-End crowd in my turf stack, and I’d serve an almighty summons on them … And if I got no satisfaction in court, I’d get a few chunks of dynamite from the big boss. Then …

— I’d have the law on Peadar the Pub’s daughter …

— Bloody tear and ’ounds , I’d get a fine pleasant ride in Nell Pháidín’s motor car …

— I’d see The Setting Sun in print …

— If I’d lived another while, I’d rub … what was that name you had for it, Master? … yes, methylated spirits, on myself …

— By the oak of this coffin, I’d pursue Caitríona for my pound …

— God would punish us, Cite …

— I’d stamp my whole body like a love-letter with Hitler’s emblems …

— The Postmistress said the other day that the Irish Folklore Commission and the Director of Statistics asked her for the records she kept, over forty-five years, of the number of little crosses in every letter. Fifteen was the Big Master’s average number, and seven was how many Caitríona always put in her letters to Big Brian: one for his beard, one for his crooked shoulder …

— … Patience! Patience, Master dear! …

— … Don’t believe him, Jack …

— I’d have gone to England to earn money and to see the West Headland crowd … I heard there’s a plague of them on the streets of London now, with white jackets … and monocles …

— I’d travel the world: Marseilles, Port Said, Singapore, Batavia. Honest …

— Qu’il retournerait pour libérer la France …

— If I’d lived another while, you wouldn’t have caused my death, you ugly Siúán. I’d take my ration cards elsewhere …

— … I’d have gone to your funeral, Billyboy the Post. I owed it to you to be at your funeral …

— I’d have keened you softly and sweetly, Billyboy …

— … I’d lay you out, Billyboy, as neatly as a lover would lay out his first love-letter …

— If I’d lived another while, I’d have asked her to bury me in another graveyard … Master, neighbour, calm down, calm down! But listen to me, Master! Two dogs with their tails tied …

— … I’d drink porter, of course, and a springtide of it …

— … The game would have been ours. I had the Nine and my partner had the fall of the play. Bad luck to the mine , if it didn’t blow up at the wrong moment! …

— … I’d have the law on the murderer for giving me poison. “Take two spoonfuls …”

— So would I, even though I never cared for splitting hairs with Mannion the Counsellor. By the docks, my friend, I’d have the law on him nevertheless. He told me to turn to whiskey. He did, indeed, my friend. If I’d stayed on the porter I’d be alright. I never had an ache or a pain …

— … If I’d lived, I’d have had a bit of luck with the crossword some week. And of course I’d have great insurance coups in Jack the Scológ’s. I’d put “Eternal Death to the Simplified Spelling” for my nom-de-plume on the next Sweepstake ticket …

— … “A Bright Smile Now, Nurse” is what I’d put …

—“Headland Harbour” is what Billyboy wrote …

— I’d go to the pictures again. Honest to God , I’d love to see that woman with the fur coat. It was an exact copy of the coat Baba Pháidín used to wear till the soot fell on it in Caitríona’s …

— That’s a damned lie, you slut! …

— Spare me the lash of your tongue, Caitríona. Peace and quiet is what I want. I didn’t deserve your snarling …

— … If I’d lived another while! If I’d lived another while, then! What would I do? What would I do, then? Only a wise man would say …

— If I’d lived till the election meeting, I’d contradict Cosgrave. I’d tell him they were sent over as mere envoys, and that they exceeded their authority …

— I lived, thanks be to God, till I told de Valera up to his face that they were sent over as plenipotentiaries. I told him up to his face. I told him up to his face. I told him up …

— That’s a damned lie, you did not! …

— I remember it well. I twisted my ankle …

— … If you had lived another while, you’d see all the young women of Donagh’s Village smoking clay pipes. That’s what they’re doing since cigarettes got scarce. They say crushed dock leaves and nettles are great in clay pipes …

— If you lived to be as old as the Yew or the Hag of Beara, 4you wouldn’t see the last flea swatted on the hillocks of your own village …

— If the Postmistress had lived another while …

— She had no need to. Her daughter inherited her ways very well …

— If I’d lived another while …

— What would you need to live for? …

— I’d see the sod over you, for one thing …

— If Tomás Inside had lived?

— He’d migrate once again …

— He’d turn to the porter again …

— He’d chase Pádraig Chaitríona’s cattle off his patch of land …

— Nell’s cattle, more likely! …

— If Caitríona had lived …

— Oh, to have buried that pussface before her …

— If I’d lived, I’d administer spiritual assistance. If I’d lived another week, even, I’d have up-to-date information for Caitríona …

— Big Colm’s daughter, you used to skip your Family Rosary in order to eavesdrop at closed doors, to see if the neighbours said theirs …

— … I’d go to Croke Park to see Concannon …

— Billyboy the Post saw your ghost there after the All-Ireland final and you whingeing and whining …

— … I’d have finished the stable during the fine weather, and the colt wouldn’t have died …

— Oh, didn’t everyone in the village see your ghost! …

— … I wouldn’t believe there’s any such thing as a ghost, Red-haired Tom …

— Some people would say there is. Some people would say there isn’t. It’s a wise man would …