ing with sweat. Go along, I'm saying, and have your tug-of-warring till he's dried his skin.
CROWD.
Here's his prizes! A bagpipes! A fiddle was played by a poet in the years gone by! A flat and three-thorned blackthorn would lick the scholars out of Dublin town!
CHRISTY, taking prizes from the men.
Thank you kindly, the lot of you. But you'd say it was little only I did this day if you'd seen me a while since striking my one single blow.
TOWN CRIER. outside, ringing a bell.
Take notice, last event of this day! Tug-of-warring on the green below! Come on, the lot of you! Great achievements for all Mayo men!
PEGEEN.
Go on and leave him for to rest and dry. Go on, I tell you, for he'll do no more.
She hustles crowd out; Widow Quin following them.
MEN, going.
Come on, then. Good luck for the while!
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