Hugh McCallion

Sitting on the Derry bus, in the Omagh bus depot,
I heard this conversation a lot of years ago;
An' Ah thought Ah'd better tell for Ah'm sure you'd like to know.

"Ach, dammits, Jimmy, how're ye doin'?
Are ye in the town the day?"
"Ach, Ah'm only middlin', Mrs Breen,
This cowl won't go away.
Ah've had it now a month or more,
It's settled on me chest,
There's days Ah'm feelin' rightly
An' there's days Ah'm naw the best."

"Lord bliss me sowl now Jimmy,
There's a lot o' that about.
Hiv ye been tay see the doctor?
We don't want ye conkin' out."
"Shure Ah hiv no faith in doctors
An' Ah'll tell ye, Mrs Breen,
They always bury their mistakes,
That's why they're niver seen."
  "Ach, dammits, Jimmy, Ah don't know,
They do the best they can;
Ah'm still wi' doctor so and so -
But he's a quare wee man."
"My doctor's killed wi' ulcers,
He canne cure 'imsel'.
Ah'll stick tay whiskey, Mrs Breen,
An' let them go tay hell."

"Isn't it terbil weather, Jimmy,
Lashin' night an' day?"
"Aw, terbil weather, Mrs Breen,
We'll al' be washed away."
"Aw, terbil weather, Jimmy,
There's no end tay the rain."
"Aw, terbil weather, Mrs Breen,
Luk, there it's on again!"

"Lord bliss me sowl now Jimmy,
Is it niver goin' tay stap?"
"There's not wan farmer, Mrs Breen,
Who'll hiv a daisent crap."
"Shure ivery place is boggin', Jimmy."
"Aye, boggin', Mrs Breen."
"It's terbil weather, Jimmy."
"Ach, the worst Ah've iver seen."
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