VII There are Thursdays when Dad gets his dole money at the Labour Exchange and a man might say,Will we go for a pint,Malachy? and Dad will say, One, only one, and the man will say, Oh, God, yes, one, and before the night is over all the money is gone and Dad comes home singing and getting us out of bed to line up and promise to die for Ire- land when the call comes. He even gets Michael up and he’s only three but  there  he  is  singing  and  promising  to  die  for  Ireland  at  the  first opportunity.That’s what Dad calls it, the first opportunity. I’m nine and Malachy is eight and we know all the songs.We sing all the verses of Kevin Barry and Roddy McCorley, “The West’s Asleep,” “O’Donnell Abu,”“The Boys of  Wexford.” We sing and promise to die because you never know when Dad might have a penny or two left over from the drinking and if he gives it to us we can run to Kathleen O’Connell’s next day for toffee. Some nights he says Michael is the best singer of all and he gives him the penny. Malachy and I wonder what’s the use of being eight and nine and knowing all the songs and ready to die when Michael gets the penny so that he can go to the shop next day and stuff his gob with toffee galore. No one can ask him to die for Ireland at the age of three, not even Padraig Pearse, who was shot by the English in Dublin  in  1916  and  expected  the  whole  world  to  die  with  him. Besides, Mikey Molloy’s father said anyone who wants to die for Ire- 170