The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 105

by James Joyce

But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply
swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little seaside
gurls. He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of power seeing all
the others go under first. Wonder how he looks at life. Cracking his jokes too :
warms the cockles of his heart. The one about the bulletin. Spurgeon went
to heaven 4 a. m. this morning. 11 p. m. (closing time). Not arrived yet.
Peter. The dead themselves the men anyhow would like to hear an odd joke
or the women to know what’s in fashion. A juicy pear or ladies’ punch, hot,
strong and sweet. Keep out the damp. You must laugh sometimes so better
do it that way. Gravediggers in Hamlet. Shows the profound knowledge of
the human heart. Daren’t joke about the dead for two years at least. De
mortuis nil nisi prius. Go out of mourning first. Hard to imagine his funeral.
Seems a sort of a joke. Read your own obituary notice they say you live
longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.

— How many have you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked.

— Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.

The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to
trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with
care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its nose on
the brink, looping the bands round it.

Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June. He
doesn’t know who is here nor care.

Now who is that lankylooking galoot over there in the macintosh?
Now who is he I’d like to know? Now, I’d give a trifle to know who he is.
Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. A fellow could live on his
lonesome all his life. Yes, he could. Still he’d have to get someone to sod him
after he died though he could dig his own grave. We all do. Only man buries.
No ants too. First thing strikes anybody. Bury the dead. Say Robinson Crusoe
was true to life. Well then Friday buried him. Every Friday buries a Thursday
if you come to look at it.

O, poor Robinson Crusoe,

How could you possibly do so?

Poor Dignam! His last lie on the earth in his box. When you think of
them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through. They could invent
a handsome bier with a kind of panel sliding let it down that way. Ay but

Annotations

"Your head it simply swurls . . . gurls."

Phrases reminiscent of the song by Harry B. Norris "Those Seaside Girls" (1899). Cf. the "Lestrygonians" episode and the "Nausicaa" episode: "Those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. . . . Your head it simply swirls."