Comhrá as Troid Bhaile an Droichid

Translation: James went up to Paddy's house and drank down a glass which made him gasp and made water flow from his eyes. And he also had a little bottle with him for the road. "What do you think of that?" said Paddy. "There is nothing wrong with it," said James when he got his breath back. "You never drank a glass as good as it," said Paddy. "I did," said James, "and I will (again). I am not saying that it is not also good, but I made a distillation last year that that wouldn't compare to." "I thought," said Paddy, "that this drop that I speak of was the best ever made here." "There is nothing wrong with it, I tell you, Paddy. Continue as you are and let no one tell you that you don't have fine whiskey." James went out and down home to get his stick. He shook the holy water on himself and on Kathleen and he asked Kathleen to say a prayer for him. "Well, may God and Mary bless my mouth," said Kathleen, "no prayer or creed will I say for you when you are setting off on a foolish journey. A fool wouldn't go to this thing today, let alone a person who sees himself to be sensible, reasonable and prudent. I won't deny it to God or to the whole world. I would like you to get a good beating, but not be killed altogether, before you return. And it is only foolish for me to be ruining my soul with my mouth. I won't say a prayer or a prayer or a bit of a prayer for you." "There is a tongue in your head, Kathleen, that would skin a flea, and may God not keep you from throwing it at the four walls of this house until I return. I am off and while an inch of this stick survives intact Big James Dwyer will be enjoying himself, attacking(?) and cutting, defending and knocking, as he practised and as was fitting for what he was always known for. Away he went, and he didn't remember to put his Sunday hat on, and the threadbare one that was on his head was discoloured and bleached by the weather, and as ugly and horrible as you ever saw. "Come back here," said Kathleen, "and put on your hat and take off that show you have on!" But James would not return. He wouldn't take off the old horrible hat now lest he give her any satisfaction. He would prefer, just to spite her, if it was seven times uglier. James went under his currach, he carried it on his back down the shore, and set it on the edge of the waves. He then got into it in God's hands, and it was many a paddle stroke he pulled from then until he reached land. The course took him not a minute less than an hour and a half