towards him. -- God save your reverence. I'm
after bringing down a smart drop; and let
you drink it up now, for it's a middling
drouthy man you are at all times, God forgive
you, and this night is cruel dry.
[She tries to go towards him. Sarah
holds her back.
PRIEST -- waving her away. -- Let you
not be falling to the flames. Keep off, I'm
saying.
MARY -- persuasively. -- Let you not be
shy of us, your reverence. Aren't we all
sinners, God help us! Drink a sup now, I'm
telling you; and we won't let on a word about
it till the Judgment Day.
[She takes up a tin mug, pours some
porter into it, and gives it to him.
MARY -- singing, and holding the jug in
her hand* --
A lonesome ditch in Ballygan
The day you're beating a tenpenny can;
A lonesome bank in Ballyduff
The time . . . [She breaks off.
It's a bad, wicked song, Sarah Casey; and
let you put me down now in the ditch, and I
won't sing it till himself will be gone; for


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