MATTHIAS. Good man, Coilin.
“That carried his burden swimming to Galway.”
THE BOYS. And hi diddle dum!
_Old Matthias shakes his head wearily; he speaks in a sad voice._
MATTHIAS. My songs are going from me, neighbours. I’m like an old fiddle
that’s lost all its strings.
CUIMIN. Haven’t you the “_Báidín_” always, Matthias?
MATTHIAS. I have, my soul; I have it as long as I’m living. I won’t lose
the “_Báidín_” till I’m stretched in the clay. Shall we have it?
THE BOYS. Aye.
MATTHIAS. Are ye ready to go rowing?
THE BOYS. We are!
_They order themselves as they would be rowing. Old Matthias sings
these verses._
MATTHIAS.
“I will hang a sail, and I will go west.”