Nagyaságos uram Lipóti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander Thom’s, printers to
His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of
Százharminczbrojúgulyás-Dugulás (Meadow of Murmuring Waters). The
ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting
cordiality. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish
artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf on a large
section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket,
tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which
reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. The departing
guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present
being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the
wellknown strains of Come Back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakóczsy’s
March. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four
seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf,
Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and
Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of
M’Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid cheers
that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of
henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic
pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the
representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as
it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the
Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the
electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse. Visszontlátásra, kedvés barátom!
Visszontlátásra! Gone but not forgotten.
Gob, the devil wouldn’t stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play, in the Queen’s royal theatre.
— Where is he till I murder him?
And Ned and J. G. paralysed with the laughing.
— Bloody wars, says I, I’ll be in for the last gospel.
But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag’s head round the other way and off with him.
— Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!
Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old mongrel after
