“Well,” says the Judge, “that’s very wonderful entirely, and” says he, “I’m in as great a quandary as before, for I see you are the three laziest men that ever were known since the world began, and which of you is the laziest it certainly beats me to say. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” says the Judge, “I’ll give the field to the oldest man of you.”
“Then,” says Conal, “it’s me gets the field.”
“How is that ?” says the Judge; “how old are you ?”
“Well, I’m that old,” says Conal, “that when I was twenty-one years of age I got a shipload of awls and never lost nor broke one of them, and I wore out the last of them yesterday mending my shoes.”
“Well, well,” says the Judge, says he, “you’re surely an old man, and I doubt very much that Donal and Taig can catch up to you.”
“Can’t I?” says Donal; “take care of that.”
“Why,” said the Judge, “how old are you ?”
“When I was twenty-one years of age,” says Donal, “I got a shipload of needles, and yesterday I wore out the last of them mending my clothes.”
“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, says he “you’re two very, very old men, to be sure, and I’m afraid poor Taig is out of his chance anyhow.”
“Take care of that,” says Taig.