Page:Glen Aldyn Plays.djvu/14



Sleep, boy, sleep, Dhrame, boy, dhrame; The cat is in the counting-house. Hush, boy, hush, Hushie, bowie, bow, Rixum, raxum, pring, prash, Cock-a-lory now.

I think it’s asleep he is at last, but I wouldn’ thruss his weather eye is open for all. Let’s have a look. [Bends over cradle. Child turns over and flings his fist in Hommy’s face.] Ogh, murther! Is that the way he’s sleepin’. I’ll have to put a rale charm on him for all.

Hommy: Now sit you down there with your back to him, an’ take you that waistcut an’ stitch for your life. An’ whatever you do don’t look round or you’ll be murthered with fright.

Child:

Child:

Omnes:

Mrs. Gale: Aw Hommy, Hommy, what’s doin’ in at all?

Hommy [standing up and rubbing himself]: Aw, butcheragh thremenjus. Did you hear them creechin’, Mrs. Gale?