in the states of Scotia Picta — and they were sing- ing through the purly ooze of Ballybough, many a door and winks or parks herself in Ostmanns- town Saint Megan’s and make follay till the near sight of their slums and artesaned wellings, rickets and riots, Uke the Smyly boys at his feet in a doorway under the sycamores, amid the devil’s punchbowl and the tits of buddy and the foretaste of the hawks with his I’ve Ivy under his tangue and the toyms