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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 483/821
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—
We
are
a
long
time
waiting
for
that
day
,
citizen
,
says
Ned
.
Since
the
poor
old
woman
told
us
that
the
French
were
on
the
sea
and
landed
at
Killala
.
—
Ay
,
says
John
Wyse
.
We
fought
for
the
royal
Stuarts
that
reneged
us
against
the
Williamites
and
they
betrayed
us
.
Remember
Limerick
and
the
broken
treatystone
.
We
gave
our
best
blood
to
France
and
Spain
,
the
wild
geese
.
Fontenoy
,
eh
?
And
Sarsfield
and
O
’
Donnell
,
duke
of
Tetuan
in
Spain
,
and
Ulysses
Browne
of
Camus
that
was
fieldmarshal
to
Maria
Teresa
.
But
what
did
we
ever
get
for
it
?
—
The
French
!
says
the
citizen
.
Set
of
dancing
masters
!
Do
you
know
what
it
is
?
They
were
never
worth
a
roasted
fart
to
Ireland
.
Aren
’
t
they
trying
to
make
an
Entente
cordiale
now
at
Tay
Pay
’
s
dinnerparty
with
perfidious
Albion
?
Firebrands
of
Europe
and
they
always
were
.
—
Conspuez
les
Français
,
says
Lenehan
,
nobbling
his
beer
.
—
And
as
for
the
Prooshians
and
the
Hanoverians
,
says
Joe
,
haven
’
t
we
had
enough
of
those
sausageeating
bastards
on
the
throne
from
George
the
elector
down
to
the
German
lad
and
the
flatulent
old
bitch
that
’
s
dead
?
Jesus
,
I
had
to
laugh
at
the
way
he
came
out
with
that
about
the
old
one
with
the
winkers
on
her
,
blind
drunk
in
her
royal
palace
every
night
of
God
,
old
Vic
,
with
her
jorum
of
mountain
dew
and
her
coachman
carting
her
up
body
and
bones
to
roll
into
bed
and
she
pulling
him
by
the
whiskers
and
singing
him
old
bits
of
songs
about
Ehren
on
the
Rhine
and
come
where
the
boose
is
cheaper
.
—
Well
,
says
J
.
J
.
We
have
Edward
the
peacemaker
now
.
—
Tell
that
to
a
fool
,
says
the
citizen
.
There
’
s
a
bloody
sight
more
pox
than
pax
about
that
boyo
.
Edward
Guelph
-
Wettin
!
