Lyin’ back here like Christ on the cross. My crisps all crumpled and cracked. I’d have your bladder snipped if it wasn’t for the burden of carrying this awful…whist!
Who could we have here up ahead…
Quick, in behind this windbush, careful not to set it alight or we’ll be smoked out to fuck.
He’s howlin’ again. Gulderin.

What is it you expect he wants?

Well if it’s one thing I know of bards and hallions, it’s that they’re always after the ride, be it from their own wench or the wife of another.

I don’t expect he’ll have much success carrying on like that.

You’d be surprised, m’boy. Women go in for this kind of thing. Look at the goes of him, he doesn’t give a fuck for no-one nor nobody.

Michael.

Yes, son.

What is it that a bard, a um a hallion does exactly?

Well, m’lad, that’s hard to say. I suppose they turn their hand to all manner of things, woodwork, music, tell a few stories, they’re awful men altogether.

Hmmn, certainly they seem to get quite a bad time of it.

What makes you say that, boy?

Well, that man on the hill, he’s ranting and raving for all he’s worth, and from what I can tell, nobody is paying him any attention. Then you say they play music and tell stories for people, yet you seem to have little if any regard for him at all.

No regard?! Why I’ll tell you something, I’d run the length and breadth of Ireland for a man like that! I bloody would. Would you listen to him?! Idiot boy. You have a lot to learn, my son. A lot to learn.
Now lets us get out of here before the bastard catches us!