a farm and can do anything. If they hire him he goes to work right away
with his cap on and his collar and tie. He works so hard and long the
farmers have to tell him to stop. They wonder how a man can work
through a long hot day with no thought of food or drink. Dad smiles.
He never brings home the money he earns on farms.That money seems
to be different from the dole, which is supposed to be brought home.
He takes the farm money to the pub and drinks it. If hes not home
when the Angelus rings at six oclock Mam knows he had a day of
work. She hopes he might think of his family and pass the pub even
once, but he never does. She hopes he might bring home something
from the farm, potatoes, cabbage, turnips, carrots, but hell never bring
home anything because hed never stoop so low as to ask a farmer for
anything. Mam says tis all right for her to be begging at the St.Vincent
de Paul Society for a docket for food but he cant stick a few spuds in
his pocket. He says its different for a man.You have to keep the dignity.
Wear your collar and tie, keep up the appearance, and never ask for any-
thing. Mam says, I hope it keeps fine for you.
When the farm money is gone he rolls home singing and crying
over Ireland and his dead children, mostly about Ireland. If he sings
Roddy McCorley, it means he had only the price of a pint or two. If he
sings Kevin Barry, it means he had a good day, that he is now falling
down drunk and ready to get us out of bed, line us up and make us
promise to die for Ireland, unless Mam tells him leave us alone or shell
brain him with the poker.
You wouldnt do that,Angela.
I would and more.You better stop the nonsense and go to bed.
Bed, bed, bed.Whats the use of going to bed? If I go to bed Ill only
have to get up again and I cant sleep in a place where theres a river
sending poison to us in mist and fog.
He goes to bed, pounds the wall with his fist, sings a woeful song,
falls asleep. Hes up at daylight because no one should sleep beyond the
dawn. He wakes Malachy and me and were tired from being kept up
the night before with his talking and singing.We complain and say were
sick, were tired, but he pulls back the overcoats that cover us and forces
us out on the floor. Its December and its freezing and we can see our
breath. We pee into the bucket by the bedroom door and run down
stairs for the warmth of the fire Dad has already started.We wash our
faces and hands in a basin that sits under the water tap by the door.The
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