talking before we die.

MARTIN DOUL. Great times from this day, with the help of the
Almighty God, for a priest itself would believe the lies of an
old man would have a fine white beard growing on his chin.

MARY DOUL. There's the sound of one of them twittering yellow
birds do be coming in the spring-time from beyond the sea, and
there'll be a fine warmth now in the sun, and a sweetness in the
air, the way it'll be a grand thing to be sitting here quiet and
easy smelling the things growing up, and budding from the earth.

MARTIN DOUL. I'm smelling the furze a while back sprouting on
the hill, and if you'd hold your tongue you'd hear the lambs of
Grianan, though it's near drowned their crying is with the full
river making noises in the glen.

MARY DOUL -- [listens.] -- The lambs is bleating, surely, and
there's cocks and laying hens making a fine stir a mile off on
the face of the hill. (She starts.)

MARTIN DOUL. What's that is sounding in the west? [A faint sound
of a bell is heard.]

MARY DOUL. It's not the churches, for the wind's blowing from
the sea.

MARTIN DOUL -- [with dismay.] -- It's the old Saint, I'm
thinking, ringing his bell.