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koczsy’s March. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along
the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of
Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the
mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and
Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Conne-
mara hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve
Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid cheers that rent the wel-
kin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of
henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills,
the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by
a final floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex
who were present in large numbers while, as it proceeded
down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of
the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute
as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pi-
geonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. Visszontlátásra, kedves
baráton! Visszontlátásra! Gone but not forgotten.
Gob, the devil wouldn’t stop him till he got hold of the
bloody tin anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging
on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as
any bloody play in the Queen’s royal theatre:
—Where is he till I murder him?
And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.
—Bloody wars, says I, I’ll be in for the last gospel.
But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag’s head
round the other way and off with him.
—Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!
Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly.
Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him