rashers and eggs and tea in honor of Oliver, that we might even have a sweet or two. He wasn’t home by noon, or one, or two, and we boiled and ate the few potatoes the shopkeepers had given the day before.He wasn’t home anytime before the sun went down that day in May.There was no sign of him till we heard him, long after the pubs closed, rolling along Wind- mill Street, singing, When all around a vigil keep, The West’s  asleep, the West’s  asleep— Alas, and well may Erin weep When Connacht lies in slumber deep. There lake and plain smile fair and free, ’Mid rocks their guardian chivalry. Sing, Oh, let man learn liberty From crashing wind and lashing sea. He stumbled into the room, hanging on to the wall.A snot oozed from his nose and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He tried to speak. Zeeze shildren should be in bed. Lishen to me. Shildren go to bed. Mam  faced  him. These  children  are  hungry. Where’s  the  dole money? We’ll get fish and chips so they’ll have something in their bel- lies when they go to sleep. She tried to stick her hands into his pockets but he pushed her away. Have respheck, he said. Reshpeck in front of shildren. She struggled to get at his pockets.Where’s the money? The chil- dren are hungry. You mad oul’ bastard, did you drink all the money again? Just what you did in Brooklyn. He blubbered, Och, poor Angela.And poor wee Margaret and poor wee Oliver. He staggered to me and hugged me and I smelled the drink I used to smell in America. My face was wet from his tears and his spit and his snot and I was hungry and I didn’t know what to say when he cried all over my head. Then he let me go and hugged Malachy, still going on about the wee sister and the wee brother cold in the ground, and how we all have to pray and be good, how we have to be obedient and do what our 77