Tom. Well Paddy, and what did you do when your wife died?
Teag. Dear honey, what would I do? do you think I was such a big fool as to die too, I am sure if I had I would not have got fair play when I am not so old yet as my father was when he died.
Tom. No, Paddy, it is not that I mean, was you sorry, or did you weep for her?
Teag. Weep for her, by shaint Patrick I would not weep, nor yet be sorry, suppose my own mother and all the women in Ireland had died seven years before I was born.
Tom. What did you do with your children when she died?
Teag. Do you imagine I was such a big fool as bury my children alive along with a dead woman; Arra, dear honey, we always commonly give nothing along with a dead person, but an old shirt, a winding sheet, a big hammer, with a long candle, and an Irish silver three-penny piece?
Tom. Dear Paddy, and what do they make of all these things?
Teag. Then Tom, since you are so inquisitive, you must go ask the Priest.
Tom. What did you make of your children Paddy?