Surely the world is looking at me and admiring the way I rock with
the float, the cool way I have with the reins and the whip. I wish I had
a pipe like Mr. Hannon and a tweed cap. I wish I could be a real coal
man with black skin like Mr. Hannon and Uncle Pa Keating so that
people would say, There goes Frankie McCourt that delivers all the
coal in Limerick and drinks his pint in Souths pub. Id never wash my
face.Id be black every day of the year even Christmas when youre sup-
posed to give yourself a good wash for the coming of the Infant Jesus.
I know He wouldnt mind because I saw the Three Wise Men in the
Christmas crib at the Redemptorist church and one of them was
blacker than Uncle Pa Keating, the blackest man in Limerick, and if a
Wise Man is black it means that everywhere you go in the world some-
one is delivering coal.
The horse lifts his tail and great lumps of steaming yellow shit
drop from his behind. I start to pull on the reins so that he can stop and
have a bit of comfort for himself but Mr. Hannon says, No, Frankie, let
him trot.They always shit on the trot.Thats one of the blessings horses
have, they shit on the trot, and theyre not dirty and stinking like the
human race, not at all, Frankie.The worst thing in the world is to go
into a lavatory after a man that had a feed of pigs feet and a night of
pints. The stink from that could twist the nostrils of a strong man.
Horses are different.All they have is oats and hay and what they drop is
clean and natural.
I work with Mr. Hannon after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays
and the half day on Saturday morning and that means three shillings for
my mother though she worries all the time over my eyes.The minute I
get home she washes them and makes me rest them for half an hour.
Mr. Hannon says hell wait near Leamys School for me on Thurs-
days after his deliveries on Barrington Street.Now the boys will see me.
Now theyll know Im a workingman and more than a scabby-eyed
blubber gob dancing Jap. Mr. Hannon says, Up you get, and I climb up
on the float like any workingman. I look at the boys gawking at me.
Gawking. I tell Mr. Hannon if he wants to smoke his pipe in comfort
Ill take the reins and when he hands them over Im sure I hear the boys
gasping. I tell the horse, Gup ower that, like Mr. Hannon.We trot away
and I know dozens of Leamys boys are committing the deadly sin of
envy. I tell the horse again, Gup ower that, to make sure everyone
heard, to make sure they know Im driving that float and no one else,
to make sure theyll never forget it was me they saw on that float with
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