The Bogman by Walter Macken

Author:Walter Macken [Walter Macken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848407749
Publisher: New Island Books
Published: 2020-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

He wasn’t that oul, I tell ye, men,

He was short of the hundred be one and ten.

He could hould his end up with slean or spade;

Ye should see him honing the mowing blade.

He had olden songs that med me cry

Of men and things in the byimby.

There’s little he wanted but twist and bread,

His Rosary beads and his feather bed,

Och! God could have gave him a longer span;

He wasn’t that short of just one oul man!

It’s a quare do,’ said Peder. ‘I had to come out for the air. I left the wife in there for me. She’s raising the roof with her roars. She was always a great one for a wake.’

They were standing at Cassidy’s gable-end that backed onto the road. They were facing the small road to the bogs, and they could see one window of the Jordans’ house. The red blind was drawn, and the light was making it look like a ruby stone.

‘He’s hurt bad,’ said Cahal.

‘It’s unnatural,’ said Peder, ‘the love he had for that oul man. I can’t understand it. I was kind of glad when my oul one passed over, to tell you the truth. He was shockin’ cranky. The day before he died, he went to attack me with the blackthorn stick. I had to take it away from him. He died cursin’ enough to make you blush. He was a hearty oul devil. We missed him for a while, but only like you’d miss an oul collie that you’d be used to stretched in front of the fire. Then we found it was great to be rid of him.’

It was a pleasant night. The moon was riding high, with innocent clouds passing across its face. You’d never think the sky would be capable of all the damage it had done. The whitewash of the houses was gleaming green. They were sitting on two flat stones, with their backs to the end of the house. It was a favourite place for the village men at night when the work was over. To sit here or stand here and chat and smoke until they went home to bed.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Cahal. ‘If I had an oul fella maybe I’d be like that about him too.’

‘You have an oul fella once removed,’ said Peder, chuckling.

‘Oh, him,’ said Cahal, blowing the smoke of his cigarette into the air. ‘It’s different with Jamesey. Jamesey really thought the sun shone out of Oul Spray. The way he’d say, “Look at him, will ye. He’s a better man than meself.” And the poor old devil tottering on the verge of the grave. Did Jamesey never have a woman at all?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Peder. ‘He had one sister who went to America. Jamesey was born late. His mother was a terrible tyrant, Lord have mercy on her. She used to smoke a pipe, and she walked like a man. She clattered Jamesey a bit. I don’t think any woman dared come near him. The old woman would have read them off the roads.

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