blind. He had a few bob on Throwaway and he’s gone to gather in the shekels.
―Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen, that never backed a horse in anger in his life.
―That’s where he’s gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He’s the only man in Dublin has it. A dark horse.
―He’s a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.
―Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out.
―There you are, says Terry.
Goodbye Ireland I’m going to Gort. So I just went round to the back of the yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was letting off my ( Throwaway twenty to) letting off my load gob says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery’s off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings is five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) Pisser Burke was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube she’s better or she’s (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if he won or (Jesus, full up I was) trading without a licence (ow!) Ireland my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those bloody