The Tay Is Wet by Ben Ryan Page B

out who let the air out of his tyre.
    Soon after he got the car the Duke started going out with a girl who lived forty miles away. It was said that she was a wealthy heiress and his neighbours thought that this would end in tears when she discovered that he had no property or wealth. One weekend the Duke brought the girl to a local dance and showed her around the biggest farm in the parish, intimating that he was the owner. He brought her into the fine farmhouse for tea as he had arranged with the real owner, a bachelor friend, to lay on a swanky meal and the friend to serve them as if he was the butler.
    ‘Oh, Donald,’ she cooed, ‘this is really the style.’
    ‘Well, ma butler says, that’s the style that Mary sat on.’
    Soon after this the Duke and the girl got married and it was only then that they both discovered that each was as poor (or as rich) as the other. The girl, whose name was Mandy, was well matched with the Duke and she rather enjoyed her role as “The Duchess.” They had a large and happy family.

In the movies with cowboys Tim mingled
    On his wellingtons silver spurs jingled
    Hopalong made him quiver
    Jesse James made him shiver
    And with Billy the Kid he just tingled

2
A M ASS FOR B ILLY THE K ID
    The “Grand” Cinema in Roggart specialized in Western or Cowboy films which delighted Timmy Deery and most of the male patrons. The ladies preferred romantic stories but these were always in short supply. The male owners ensured that this was the case. One Saturday the main feature was a western called “Billy the Kid.” The kid, dressed all in black with silver trimmings and riding on a white horse, was portrayed as a kind of cowboy Robin Hood figure and was a particular favourite of Timmy’s. At the end of the film, however, the hero, Billy, was shot dead by sheriff Pat Garrett.
    Timmy Deery was greatly upset at the killing of this much-loved cowboy. He complained to everyone that he met on his way home about how unfair it was and he stayed awake that night wondering how he could get revenge on Sheriff Garrett. He went to Mass on the following day, which was Sunday, and when he heard the priest announce that the Mass was for some special people in the parish who had died, he had an idea which made him smile. He would honour the Kid with a special Mass right here in Roggart. When the service was over he went into the church vestry to request the priest to say the Mass for William Bonney (the Kid’s real name). He could hear a woman’s voice talking loudly as he entered. Father Muldoon was folding his vestments carefully and placing them in a shallow wooden drawer, while he chatted, but mainly listened, to Mrs O’Gorman, an elderly, loquacious, self-opinionated lady, who was discussing the flower decoration of the alter for next week. She talked about the colours she was going to use, where she got the flowers—some she got in the local florists, some she grew in her own garden, others from her neighbour’s garden. The (largely one-sided) conversation went on and on. Timmy moved restlessly from one foot to the other.
    ‘Come on, woman; finish your blooming flowers,’ he muttered under his breath.
    Father Muldoon looked bored but nodded politely every now and then. Mrs O’Gorman continued relentlessly.
    ‘I would love to use orchids but they are so expensive and most people here are too ignorant (she rolled her eyes towards where Timmy was fidgeting) to appreciate them. No, I’ll use some gladioli and maybe a few snap-dragons.’
    ‘You’re a right snap-dragon,’ Timmy thought to himself.
    At long last she finished, although she was still going on about the flowers as she went out the door and down the steps. Father Muldoon turned to Timmy.
    ‘And what can we do for you, Timmy?’ he said wearily.
    ‘I want you to say a mass for someone that died, Father.’
    ‘Well, I’ll be delighted to do that for you, what’s the name of this person?’
    ‘William Bonney,