They say it along with Seamus now and when its finished they
cheer and clap and Seamus laughs, delighted with himself.When hes
gone with his mop and bucket you can hear them at all hours of the day
and night
O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are.
What a beautiful Pussy you are.
Then Seamus comes with no mop and no bucket and Im afraid hes
sacked over the poetry but hes smiling and telling me hes off to En-
gland to work in a factory and earn decent wages for a change. Hell
work for two months and bring the wife over and God might be
pleased to send them children for he has to do something with all the
poems in his head and what better than saying them to small ones in
memory of that sweet Patricia Madigan dead of the dipteria.
Good-bye, Francis. If I had the right fist Id write to you but Ill get
the wife to write when she comes over. I might even learn to read and
write myself so that the child that comes wont have a fool for a father.
I want to cry but you cant cry in the eye ward with brown stuff in
your eyes and nurses saying,Whats this whats this be a man, and nuns
going on, Offer it up, think of the sufferings of Our Lord on the cross,
the crown of thorns, the lance in the side, the hands and feet torn to bits
with nails.
Im a month in the hospital and the doctor says I can go home even
if theres still a bit of infection but if I keep the eyes clean with soap and
clean towels and build up my health with nourishing food plenty of
beef and eggs Ill have a pair of sparkling eyes in no time ha ha.
Mr. Downes across the way comes back from England for his mothers
funeral.He tells Mrs.Downes about my father.She tells Bridey Hannon
and Bridey tells my mother. Mr. Downes says that Malachy McCourt is
gone pure mad with the drink, that he squanders his wages in pubs all
over Coventry, that he sings Irish rebel songs which the English dont
mind because theyre used to the way the Irish carry on about
the hundreds of years of suffering, but they wont put up with any man
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