3rd fair copy, January 1925, §2C draft level 4
MS British Library 47483 28-31 Draft details
But 'tis time to be up and ambling. This shack's not big enough for me now. Somewhere I must get,º faraway from Banba shoreº. So I think I'll take freeboot advice and down and up I'll travel the vast world over. Come, my good feet! Was not my mother a Runningwaterº? Farewell awhile to her and thee!º So, now or never. Here goes the enemy. I bless all to the west as Whatwillwecallhim sang to the Kerryboys. |4I'm through.4| Won. Toe. Adry. You watch my smoke.
After poor Jaun the Boast's last words ending in smoke twentyeight add one of the paddling party were
coming to his assistance but,º repulsing all attempts
at first aid, our greatly misunderstood one we perceived to give himself some sort of a prod or kick to sit up and take notice which acted like magic while the phalanx of daughters of February Filldyke voiced approval in the customary manner by dropping to their knees and clapping together the flats of their hands as they viewed him, the just one, their darling, away.
Jaunº just then I saw to collect from the gentlest weeper among the wailers, who by this were in half mourning for the passing of the last post, the familiar yellow label into which he let fall a drop, smothered a curse, choked a
guffaw, spat |4his blank4| expectoration and blew his own trumpet. And next thing was he
gummalicked the stickyback side and stamped the badge of belief to his brow with a genuine dash that readily turned the feminine audience upside down, (the holy scamp!)º with
aº half a glance of Irish frisky from under the shag of his parallel brows. It was then heº waved a hand across the seaº as notice to quit but in selfrighting
the balance of him to exchange embraces with the bosom he loved best,º bad luck to the lie but he toppledº a lipple on to the off and, making a brandnew start for himself by blessing his stars with
the sign of the southern cross, his hat blew off and Jawjon Redhead, bucketing after,º kingscouriered round by the bridge beyond Ladycastle (and he narrowly missed fouling her
buttress for her in the act) and then away with him at the double, the hulk of a garron, pelting after the roadº on Shanks'sº
mare (the bouchal! you'd think it was that moment they gave him theº legs) along
the highroad of the nation following which
he was quickly lost to sight though without a doubt he was all the more on that account to memory dear,º while Sickerson, the auxiliary,º he murmured full of woe: Where maggot Harvey leftinit ate Andrews coos hogdamn farewell:
Whethenº,º may the good people now speed you, rural Haun, export stout fellow that you are, ay, and |4blood and brawn heart in hand4| of Shamrogueshire! May your bawny hair grow rarer and fairer, our own only whiteheaded boy! Good by nature and natural by design, had you but been spared to us,º Hauneen lad,º but sure where's the use my talking quicker when I know you'll hear me all astray? My long farewell I send to you, fair dream of sport and game and always something new. Gone is Haun! My grief, my ruin! 'Tis wellº you'll be looked after from last to first as yon beam of light we follow receding on your pilgrimage to your antipodes in the past, youº who so often consigned your distributoryº tidings of great joy into our |4never too late to love nevertoolatetolove4| box, dearest Haun of themº all,º |4stepwalker,4| you of the boots, true as a dieº, |4stepwalker,4| pennyatimer. Thy now palewaningº lamp we ne'er may see again. But could it speak how would it splutter praises be to thee! For you had — may I dare to say it? — a glow ofº zeal of service such as rarely if ever have I met with inº single men. There are folks still unclaimed by the death angel in this country of ours today who will fervently pray to the Spiritº above that they may never depart this earth of theirs till in the long run Johnny Walker comes marching ahomeº. Life, it is true,º will be a blank without you, a slip of the time between a date and a ghostmark from the night we are and feel to the yesterselves we dread to remember.
But, boy, you did your strong nine furlong mile in slick and slapstick record time and a farfetched deed it was in troth, champion docileº with your high bouncing gait of going,º and your feat will be contested for centuries to come. Ay, already the sombrer opacities of the gloom are sphanished! Braveº footsore Haun! Hold to! Win out, ye divil ye! The silent cock shall crow at last. The west shall shake the east awake. Walk while ye have the night,º for morn, lightbreakfastbringer, morroweth whereon every post shall full fast sleep.