Page 107 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man
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with quaint accent and phrasing:
’Tis youth and folly
Makes young men marry,
So here, my love, I’ll
No longer stay.
What can’t be cured, sure,
Must be injured, sure,
So I’ll go to
Amerikay.
My love she’s handsome,
My love she’s bony:
She’s like good whisky
When it is new;
But when ‘tis old
And growing cold
It fades and dies like
The mountain dew.
The consciousness of the warm sunny city outside his
window and the tender tremors with which his father’s
voice festooned the strange sad happy air, drove off all the
mists of the night’s ill humour from Stephen’s brain. He got
up quickly to dress and, when the song had ended, said:
—That’s much prettier than any of your other COME-
ALL-YOUS.
—Do you think so? asked Mr Dedalus.
—I like it, said Stephen.
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