say. I drink the odd pint of milk and leave the bottle so that the milk-
man wont be blamed for not delivering. I like milkmen because one of
them gave me two broken eggs which I swallowed raw with bits of
shells and all. He said Id grow up powerful if I had nothing else but two
eggs in a pint of porter every day. Everything you need is in the egg and
everything you want is in the pint.
Some houses get better bread than others. It costs more and thats
what I take.I feel sorry for the rich people who will get up in the morn-
ing and go to the door and find their bread missing but I cant let myself
starve to death.If I starve Ill never have the strength for my telegram boy
job at the post office, which means Ill have no money to put back all
that bread and milk and no way of saving to go to America and if I cant
go to America I might as well jump into the River Shannon. Its only a
few weeks till I get my first wages in the post office and surely these rich
people wont collapse with the hunger till then.They can always send the
maid out for more.Thats the difference between the poor and the rich.
The poor cant send out for more because theres no money to send out
for more and if there was they wouldnt have a maid to send. Its the
maids I have to worry about.I have to be careful when I borrow the milk
and the bread and theyre at the front doors polishing knobs, knockers
and letter boxes. If they see me theyll be running to the woman of the
house, Oh, madam, madam, theres an urchin beyant thats makin off
with all the milk and bread.
Beyant. Maids talk like that because theyre all from the country,
Mullingar heifers, says Paddy Clohessys uncle, beef to the heels, and
they wouldnt give you the steam of their piss.
I bring home the bread and even if The Abbot is surprised he doesnt
say,Where did you get it? because he was dropped on his head and that
knocks the curiosity out of you. He just looks at me with his big eyes
that are blue in the middle and yellow all around and slurps his tea from
the great cracked mug his mother left behind.He tells me,Thats me mug
and dont be drinkin your tay oush of ish.
Oush of ish.Thats the Limerick slum talk that always worried Dad.
He said, I dont want my sons growing up in a Limerick lane saying,
Oush of ish. Its common and low-class. Say out of it properly.
And Mam said, I hope it keeps fine for you but youre not doing
much to get us oush of ish.
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300