Charlie Ward. Well, that is a great sort of a hymn. I never thought there was a hymn like that, I never did.
Paddy Cockfight. To think, now, there is a hymn like that. I mustn't let it slip out of my mind. How splendid is the cup of my drunkenness, that's it.
Charlie Ward. Have you found that old bird of mine?
Tommy the Song. [Who has been searching among the baskets.] Here he is, in the basket and a lot of things over it.
Charlie Ward. Get out that new speckled bird of yours, Paddy, I've been wanting to see how could he play for a week past.
Paul Ruttledge. Where do you get the cocks?
Paddy Cockfight. It was a man below Mullingar owned this one. The day I first seen him I fastened my two eyes on him, he preyed on my mind, and next night, if I didn't go back every foot of nine miles to put him in my bag.
Paul Ruttledge. Do you pay much for a good fighting cock?
Sabina Silver. [Laughs.] Do you pay much, Paddy?
Paul Ruttledge. Perhaps you don't pay anything.