(coldly) You are a perfect stranger." (U15.1193)
(in a hollow voice) It is true. It was my funeral. Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease from natural causes.
(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)
(in triumph) You hear?
Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam's spirit. List, list, O list!" (U15.1209)
(Foghorns stormily through his megaphone.) Dignam, Patrick T, deceased.
(With pricked up ears, winces.) Overtones. (He wriggles forward and places an ear to the ground.) My masters' voice!" (U15.1243)
Burial docket letter number U.P. eightyfive thousand. Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plot, one hundred and one" (U15.1248)
(A hand to his breastbone, bows.) Reuben J. A florin I find him. (He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare.) My turn now on." (U15.1259)
[Image courtesy of Eamonn Finn]
This later PC shows the Coal Market in Carlow. The song 'Follow Me up to Carlow' is a traditional tune (ca. 1500) with lyrics by Patrick Joseph McCall (1861 - 1919). It tells the story of the Battle of Glenmalure, one of the victories of the Irish over the English in the late 16c.
(Warbling.) Leo! (Twittering.) Icky licky micky sticky for Leo! (Cooing.) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum, Womwom! (Warbling.) Big comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold! (Twittering.) Leeolee! (Warbling.) O Leo!
(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, silvery sequins.)
A man's touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here." (U15.1271)
Are you looking for someone? He's inside with his friend.
Is this Mrs Mack's?
No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen's. You might go farther and fare worse. Mother Slipperslapper. (Familiarly.)" (U15.1279)
You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight?
(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A hand glides over his left thigh.)" (U15.1288)
How's the nuts?
Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose. One in a million"(U15.11298)
(In sudden alarm.) You've a hard chancre.
I feel it." (U15.1302)
A talisman. Heirloom.
For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh?" (U15.1309)
You'll know me the next time.
(Forlornly.) I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure to..." (U15.1314)
(Murmuring singsong with the music, her odalisk lips lusciously smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater.) Schorach ani wenowach, benoith Hierushaloim.
(Fascinated.) I thought you were of good stock by your accent.
And you know what thought did?
(She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, sending on him a cloying breath of stale garlic. The roses draw apart, disclose a sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)" (U15.1331)