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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 15/821
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He
flung
up
his
hands
and
tramped
down
the
stone
stairs
,
singing
out
of
tune
with
a
Cockney
accent
:
O
,
won
’
t
we
have
a
merry
time
,
Drinking
whisky
,
beer
and
wine
!
On
coronation
,
Coronation
day
!
O
,
won
’
t
we
have
a
merry
time
On
coronation
day
!
Warm
sunshine
merrying
over
the
sea
.
The
nickel
shavingbowl
shone
,
forgotten
,
on
the
parapet
.
Why
should
I
bring
it
down
?
Or
leave
it
there
all
day
,
forgotten
friendship
?
He
went
over
to
it
,
held
it
in
his
hands
awhile
,
feeling
its
coolness
,
smelling
the
clammy
slaver
of
the
lather
in
which
the
brush
was
stuck
.
So
I
carried
the
boat
of
incense
then
at
Clongowes
.
I
am
another
now
and
yet
the
same
.
A
servant
too
.
A
server
of
a
servant
.
In
the
gloomy
domed
livingroom
of
the
tower
Buck
Mulligan
’
s
gowned
form
moved
briskly
to
and
fro
about
the
hearth
,
hiding
and
revealing
its
yellow
glow
.
