THE WIT AND WISDOM OF ROSIE RYAN

The day being dull, dank and grey, with the chance of antipication on the hills, I was ensconsed in my abode, polishing my nick-nacks with Brasso. Deer mummy had bequethed me some many lovely peaces, when she popped her clogs and shuffled off this mortal coil.
Every single wan of them stole from shops, fairs and neighbours houses. Dear mummy suffered from kleptomania, which is just a big word for a licence too steel.
Ah, I remember the auld Judge looking down at deer mummy and saying.
"Mrs Ryan, have you any excuse as too why the three brass monkeys were found in your pocket?" "Your honour" roared mammy "God must have put them there".
The auld judge grinned and said "God knot being in the dock with you, I have know other recourse that two find you ten shillings and bound you over for six months".
"Its because I'm a Cat-Lick, isn't it"? roared mammy
"Know Mrs Ryan" said the auld judge, "its because you are a thief ".
The hole court went into a fit of laughing--including me and daddy, mummy stormed out in hi-dungeon and kneed wan of the peelers right in the fork of the trousers as she passed him.
Deer daddy was in the dock next for steeling a pig, but when he explained that the pig followed him home like a dog, he got off with a caution.
As I spit on a statue of saint Geronimo that mummy stole fron Nock, prior two polishing it, the dour brust open and my sun, Bon Jovi stormed in like Fritz the Hun.
"Ah, bonjour my petite Hibernian piccaninny" I said "and how is the garden topiary going?
Did you form that bush into the shape of a bird?"
"Know" roared Bon Jovi, "I did knot, know wan could make that straggly bush into anything, so I just cut the branches of it and now you kan call it a stump".
"Sacre Blue" I said "you have hands for nothing,why did you knot inherit my artistic bent?"
"Artistic bent, my bum" roared Bon Jovi, "why do you always talk as if you no everything, because believe me--you no damn all, about damn all and why did you call me a-a-hibernating piccalilli when I came in? Why didn't you just say--here comes the lump of a cub?"
"I am an artist" I yelled "words are my pallet, I use words to paint pictures".
"Well, know wan else does" roared Bon Jovi "every-wan else uses crayons".
"I am different" I said "I am an Orisis of kulture in the desert of Clougher".
Bon Jovi sat down, crossed wan cut knee over the other, peered up at me with his good eye and said, "I know things about you-bad things".
I clung on two the dresser and gulped-"What things?".
Bon Jovi smiled, well, it was more of a girn and said, "Does the grate nicker swindle bring back any memories". My knees nearly gave way, but I held on to the dresser like a limpet.
"I don't know what you mean" I blustered. "Don't you?" smirked Bon Jovi, "I was over playing with Duane McSpiggot and his mammy told me the hole story, I must say, it was some caper".
"What did auld Mercedes McSpiggot say?" I stuttered.
Bon Jovi got two his feet, put his hands behind his humpy back and said, "Oh, just how you wood go up to cutties at skool and say, "Oh Mary Ann, I've wet my nickers, could I borrow yours or daddy and mammy wool kill me". "Over twenty thymes you pulled that trick" roared Bon Jovi, spinning on his heel and pointing at me, "Over twenty pear of nickers you accuired by fraud and deception" then the cub lowered his face to mine and hissed,
"And-you-never gave any of them--back".
I broke down, "We wuz poor" I yelled "we could knot afford drawers, I saw a chance and I took it, I took it I tell you, when I left skool I had over thirty pears of drawers stached in a hollow oak tree" then I broke down and shrieked like a banshee with toothache.
Bon Jovi rubbed his chin and said, "It was a good scam, I wonder wood it work with--bicycles?"
"Know, Bon Jovi" I screamed, "don't go taking bicycles off the cubs--at least knot 'till you have a shed or a hide-out to put them in".
Chuck Corona my boyfriend and me lay in the long, wet rushes, so beloved by coot and herne. I was rolling up little balls of wool from Chuck's verdigras gansey and sticking them into his shell-like lug holes. Chuck was nibbling at my swan-like neck like a Conamarra pony. We broke wind in unison , smiled into each other feaces and-kissed.
Ah, the kiss,made imoral by rodent. The seal of love, the mingling of flesh and salive, the interchange of cold sores. So imtimate, two mouths, full of germs, meeting, exchanging microbs and disease, the KISS the sealing of the bargin, the coming together, the trying to keep a snottter from forming as the too lips meet. After the tentitive, gentle-kiss, we rolled in the wet rushes, grunting and growling like too wart hogs.
Ah, lamore, fuel, two set fire two the faggots of love.
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