And I feel tears coming because Im looking at him at last, Cuchu-
lain,there on his pedestal in the G.P.O.Hes golden and he has long hair,
his head is hanging and theres a big bird perched on his shoulder.
The driver says, Now what in Gods name is this all about? Whats
this fellow doin with the long hair and the bird on his shoulder? And
will you kindly tell me, mister, what this has to do with the men of
1916?
Dad says, Cuchulain fought to the end like the men of Easter Week.
His enemies were afraid to go near him till they were sure he was dead
and when the bird landed on him and drank his blood they knew.
Well, says the driver, tis a sad day for the men of Ireland when they
need a bird to tell them a man is dead. I think we better go now or well
be missing that train to Limerick.
The sergeants wife said shed send a telegram to Grandma to meet us
in Limerick and there she was on the platform, Grandma, with white
hair, sour eyes, a black shawl, and no smile for my mother or any of us,
even my brother, Malachy, who had the big smile and the sweet white
teeth. Mam pointed to Dad. This is Malachy, she said, and Grandma
nodded and looked away. She called two boys who were hanging
around the railway station and paid them to carry the trunk.The boys
had shaved heads, snotty noses, and no shoes and we followed them
through the streets of Limerick. I asked Mam why they had no hair and
she said their heads were shaved so that the lice would have no place to
hide. Malachy said,Whats a lice? and Mam said, Not lice. One of them
is a louse. Grandma said,Will ye stop it! What kind o talk is this? The
boys whistled and laughed and trotted along as if they had shoes and
Grandma told them, Stop that laughin or tis droppin an breakin that
trunk yell be. They stopped the whistling and laughing and we fol-
lowed them into a park with a tall pillar and a statue in the middle and
grass so green it dazzled you.
Dad carried the twins, Mam carried a bag in one hand and held
Malachys hand with the other.When she stopped every few minutes to
catch her breath, Grandma said,Are you still smokin them fags? Them
fags will be the death of you.Theres enough consumption in Limerick
without people smokin fags on top of it an tis a rich mans foolishness.
Along the path through the park there were hundreds of flowers of
different colors that excited the twins.They pointed and made squeaky
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