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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368726" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Paddy Murphy's Wake</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The priest had been here earlier and the rosary was said<br>and relatives and friends in single file were offering condolences.<br>'Sorry for your troubles, ' one by one they said, <br>bending over Maggie Murphy, silent in her rocker, <br>a foot or so from Paddy, resplendent in his casket, <br>the two of them much closer now than they had ever been. <br>A silent guest of honor, Paddy now had nothing more to say, <br>waked in aspic, if you will, in front of his gothic fireplace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But the hour was getting late and still the widow hadn't wept.<br>Her eyes were swept Saharas and the mourners wanted tears.<br>They had fields to plow come morning and they needed sleep <br>but the custom in County Kerry was <br>no one leaves a wake until the widow weeps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Fair Maggie could have married any man in Kerry, <br>according to her mother, who almost every day reminded her of that.<br>'Maggie, ' she would say, 'you should have married Mickey. <br>His limp was not that bad, ' but Maggie wouldn't listen. <br>Instead, she married Paddy, 'that pestilence out walking' <br>as her mother often called him<br>even on a Sunday but only after Mass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Maggie married Paddy the day he scored the only goal <br>the year that Kerry took the trophy back from Galway.<br>That goal was no small thing, Paddy would remind us all forever<br>until one of us would gag and buy him another drink. <br>That goal, he'd shout, was something historians would one day note, <br>even if they hadn't yet, and every time he'd mention it, <br>which was almost daily, Maggie's mother would remind her daughter<br>that she should have married Mickey and had a better life.<br>The final time her mother praised poor Mickey, <br>a screaming match ensued, so loud it woke the rooster <br>the day before her mother, feverish in bed, <br>gurgled like a frog and died. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This evening, though, as the wake wore on, <br>the mourners grew more weary <br>waiting for the tears the widow hadn't shed.<br>Restless in his folding chair, Mickey put his bottle down <br>and rose to give the eulogy it had taken days to memorize. <br>'Folks, ' he said, 'if all of us would holler down to Paddy now, <br>he'd holler back, I'm sure, and tell us, <br>despite the flames and all that smoke, that Kerry <br>winning over Galway is all that ever mattered, even now.<br>We'll always have cold Paddy over there to thank for that.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Widow Murphy hadn't moved all evening, <br>but after hearing Mickey speak, she began to rock with fury<br>as she raised a purple fist, shook it to the heavens<br>and then began to hum her favorite dirge.<br>The mourners all joined in and hummed along until<br>midnight pealed on the mantel clock and then, <br>as if released by God Himself, the mourners one by one <br>rose from folding chairs and left in single file, freed <br>by a hurricane of the Widow Murphy's tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Donal+Mahoney">Donal Mahoney</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368726" data-title="Paddy Murphy's Wake de Donal Mahoney" data-description="The priest had been here earlier and the rosary was said
and relatives and friends in single file were offering condolences.
'Sorry for your troubles, ' one by one they said, 
bending over Maggie Murphy, silent in her rocker, 
a foot or so from Pa..."></div>
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