(Private Carr and private Compton, SWAGGERSTICKS tight in their OXTERS,
as they march unsteadily RIGHTABOUTFACE and burst together from their
mouths A volleyed fart.  Laughter of men from the lane.  A hoarse virago
retorts.)

The virago:  Signs on you, hairy arse.  More power the Cavan girl.

Cissy Caffrey:  More luck to me.  Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. (She
sings)

    I gave it to Nelly
    to stick in her belly,
    the leg of the duck,
    the leg of the duck.

(Private Carr and private Compton turn and COUNTERRETORT, their tunics
BLOODBRIGHT in A LAMPGLOW, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped
Polls.  Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the
redcoats.)

Private Compton:  (Jerks his finger) Way for the parson.

Private Carr:  (Turns and calls) What ho, parson!

CISSY CAFFREY:  (HER VOICE SOARING HIGHER)

    She has it, she got it,
    wherever she put it,
    the leg of the duck.

(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy the
introit for Paschal time.  Lynch, his JOCKEYCAP low on his brow, attends
him, A sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.)

Stephen:  VIDI AQUAM EGREDIENTEM de TEMPLO A LATERE dextro.  Alleluia.

(The famished SNAGGLETUSKS of an elderly bawd protrude from A doorway.)

The bawd:  (Her voice whispering huskily) Sst!  Come here till I tell you. 
Maidenhead inside.  Sst!

Stephen:  (ALTIUS ALIQUANTULUM) et OMNES ad QUOS PERVENIT Aqua ISTA.

The bawd:  (Spits in their trail her jet of venom) Trinity medicals. 
Fallopian tube.  All prick and no pence.

(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with Bertha supple, draws her shawl
across her nostrils.)