On his way across the sweep of the hill he encountered Shamesy Golliher. The famous drunkard was laden with the rabbits he had just taken from the snares. The strength of his thirst had also begun to attack him, so that by reason of both defects his legs now bent under him weakly as he walked. Yet his attitude did not suggest defeat, for he had never failed to maintain his reputation in the valley. He was the local bard, the satiric poet of the neighborhood. He was the only inhabitant of the valley who continually did what he pleased, for he throve within the traditional Gaelic dread of satire. No matter how he debased himself no man or woman dared talk of it for fear they might be made the subject of a song to be ranted in the taprooms of Garradrimna. And he was not one to respect the feelings of those whom he put into his rimes, for all of them were conceived in a mood of ribald and malignant glee.
"Me sound man John, how are ye?" he said, extending a white, nervous hand.
"I'm very well, thanks; and how are you, Shamesy?"
"Ah, just only middling. I don't look the very best. You'll excuse me not being shaved. But that's on account of the neuralgia. God blast it! it has me near killed. It has the nerves destroyed on me. Look at me hand." ... It was the idiosyncrasy of Shamesy Golliher to assert that drink was no part of his life.
Immediately he dropped into his accustomed vein. He gazed down the Hill of Annus and found material for his tongue. There were the daughters of Hughie Murtagh. They had no brother, and were helping their father in the fields.
"Them's the men, them's the men!" said Shamesy, "though glory be to God! 'twill be the hard case with them when they come to be married, for sure you wouldn't like to marry a man, now would you? And for pity's sake will you look at Oweneen Kiernan, the glutton! I hear he ate five loaves at the ball in Ballinamult; and as sure as you're there that powerful repast'll have to be made the material for a song."
A loud laugh sprang from the lips of Shamesy Golliher and floated far across the lake, and John Brennan was immediately surprised to find himself laughing in the same way.
The rimer was still pursuing Oweneen down the field of his mind.