down the hill Malachy is supposed to stop it but hes looking at a pal on
roller skates and it speeds by him across the street and through the doors
of Lenistons pub where men are having a peaceful pint and not expect-
ing a pram with a dirty-faced child saying Goo goo goo goo.The bar-
man shouts this is a disgrace, there must be a law against this class of
behavior, babies roaring through the door in bockety prams, hell call
the guards on us, and Alphie waves at him and smiles and he says, all
right, all right, the child can have a sweet and a lemonade, the brothers
can have lemonade too, that raggedy pair, and God above, tis a hard
world, the minute you think youre getting ahead a pram comes crash-
ing through the door and youre dishing out sweets and lemonade right
and left, the two of ye take that child and go home to yeer mother.
Malachy has another powerful idea, that we could go around Lim-
erick like tinkers pushing Alphie in his pram into pubs for the sweets
and lemonade, but I dont want Mam finding out and hitting me with
her right cross. Malachy says Im not a sport and runs off. I push the
pram over to Henry Street and up by the Redemptorist church. Its a
gray day, the church is gray and the small crowd of people outside the
door of the priests house is gray.Theyre waiting to beg for any food
left over from the priests dinner.
There in the middle of the crowd in her dirty gray coat is my
mother.
This is my own mother, begging.This is worse than the dole, the St.
Vincent de Paul Society, the Dispensary. Its the worst kind of shame,
almost as bad as begging on the streets where the tinkers hold up their
scabby children, Give us a penny for the poor child, mister, the poor
child is hungry, missus.
My mother is a beggar now and if anyone from the lane or my
school sees her the family will be disgraced entirely. My pals will make
up new names and torment me in the schoolyard and I know what theyll
say,
Frankie McCourt
beggar womans boy
scabby-eyed
dancing
blubber-gob
Jap
250