Chapter 11: Everything Old Is New Again

Chapter 11: Everything Old Is New Again
Change proceeded apace in old Pankhurst.
As Mr. Moore had surmised, a buyer snapped up the Stein's former residence in a trice, and for a rather decent sum.With the future ahead of her shining much brighter, Em was less concerned with the past and what she had lost. Much of what she had decided to keep had been transferred to Crowley place and what she had discarded had gone to charities and friends. She'd thought that she would also see how Macky would do with Frida at the Kahlo's before she'd made her final exit, so that she would be close at hand in case she needed to take him...but Mac seemed happy enough at the neighbor's thus far.
Emmeline surveyed the now nearly empty old home of Alice's. It had been a job, but knowing this, Marta had told her that she needn't begin working for her until next month, and so had given Em the time off needed to attend to the move.
Everything was gone now...except the old woodstove in the kitchen, the icebox, and Em had moved Alice's daybed into the parlor and upon this she slept. She also kept her clothes and personal items with her. She was feeling that Crowley place was
becoming a new possibility for her, but...she didn't quite want to let go of everything just yet...
Just knowing that all the heavy work was done, (much helped by Travel ala Yeats), she felt she wanted just a space of peace here before she absolutely had to leave...a sortof neutral zone.
She had always enjoyed her own company, which was partly why she and Alice had been such good housemates;Al also was a fairly private sort and they were so used to one another, they could sit in the same room busy with their own thoughts, and never speak, yet each enjoy the others' company. If she had wanted to spend the day in her room with the door shut, it wouldn't have bothered Alice one whit.
By comparison...the thought of moving to a house, however large, with three people;three male people...hovered over Emmeline like a cloud of uncertainty...time would tell if it would be a thundercloud or have a silver lining.
Well, it's the best choice I could make, for now, Em sighed to herself. But, in the meantime...she would enjoy her privacy and 'camping out' at Alice's,for another couple of weeks.
She'd been enjoying forays out on her bicycle as well, sortof saying farewell to the old neighborhood. She had even stopped by Druid Central, the old house up Elm street to check in with them as it would soon be the Equinox. Michael and the druids welcomed Em and made her promise she would join them for at least one day of festivities which would be held both there on the property as well as at the Leaping Lizard, where Woody had declared St. Patricks Day through the Equinox, Druid Days. There would even be a horserace, the Druid Derby, out at the old fairgrounds.
And, of course, there would be Keltic music! Emmeline was excited...many  Welsh, Irish, and Scots would be attending, bringing bodhran, irish mandolin, fife, and fiddle...
She knew also, that it would be impossible to keep this local celebration a secret...and that once Jack knew of it, he would be excited as well...and she wondered how to handle all that.
Jack seemed to be healing well enough, the black eye nearly gone, and no problems from the concussion, thank the goddess for his hard head...so, she decided she would talk it over with Yeats first;who had agreed that it would be futile to think that Jack wouldn't know about Druid Days, or to try to keep him away from some festivities at least.
'Some well-chaperoned and well-delineated activity,perhaps,
'Yeats agreed.'We all shall attend ONE days' celebration at Woodys', myself encluded.' Yeats sighed. 'I suppose it will have to be St. Patrick's Day, then.Jack shall not be let out of our sight for a moment! Aleister or myself shall even accompany him to the gents! 'Beg pardon, Miss Page...'
Emmeline waved away propriety with a hand.'If we are to live together as sister and brother, no pardon needed, Mr. Yeats!'
Em dared a surmise then. 'I, I might be thinking that you have
rather a bit of Irish blood yourself Mr. Yeats, if I may be so bold...?'
Yeats seemed to glower beneath dark brows from above for a moment, then a small smile hovered about one corner of his mouth.'A-hmmm. The whole Yeats clan, from County Sligo, so we were...I am not an unfamiliar hand with poetry, if I do say so myself...!' And Yeats stared off into the distance over the hills, now gone emerald green from the new rains.
'Oh, indeed!' Em was pleased to view this undiscovered side of Mr. Yeats. 'There will be poetry readings as well as music, if I know my druids! Michael is a right old bard, so he is.'
Yeats looked at her then. 'Perhaps I shall join them in a bit of verse-slinging.' And then off he'd gone, to whatever duties and now dreams, Em realized, that old Yeats deigned to pursue.
                         . . . .
That evening, after supper, Jack was informed of the upcoming Druid Days, as he, Aleister and Yeats sat warming by the fireside.
'We shall all be attending. And, only because it is a special local celebration, and would be considered somewhat of an insult were we not to make an appearance.'Yeats told him, glowering over all from on high as he stood by the mantlepiece.'You will not be allowed a moment alone, and I will not accept anything for an answer other than 'yes sir!''
'Ah! Yes, sir, it is, then!' Jack was surprised, and pleasantly, to actually be able to head back to Woody's so soon. The Head had already chewed his ass to mulch after the...altercation, and
Jack had been so roundly tongue-lashed it had pained him as much as his injuries. He knew Yeats felt personally responsible for their safety, and as his sensei, felt it reflected upon his teaching.Jack had failed in this test of what he had supposedly, learned.Jack also knew that he had allowed his practice to have fallen by the wayside long ago, and all blame was entirely his. He knew also, that Yeats would not view it as such.
'Once you are healed, your practice WILL recommence, in earnest,' Yeats had told him. 'You have your room. I think, too,
that perhaps Miss Page would benefit by learning some basics as well...'
Jack had thought this an excellent idea...he and Em could practice together...and this would get them used to being around
one another on a completely different level. He understood why she wished to stay as long as she could at Alice's still...
saying 'goodbye to all that'...time enough for her to descend upon them all later. But, Jack was impatient. So much they could be working on...
As if he knew Jacks' fevered thoughts, Yeats admonished,'UNTIL then, you will rest and recuperate!' He then took his leave, and Jack felt it incumbent upon himself to get to work resting forthwith.
                        . . . .
He was feeling rather chipper the next day, in fact. And, he had a meeting with Mr. Moore the attorney that morning.
As he was hitching Trotsky to the trap, Aleister strode up, patting Trots on the neck.'I'll ride in with you, Jack...could use a few more items from the hardware store, if you don't mind!'
Jack grinned slightly, and glanced sideways at Al. 'Sure, Al.' He straightened up and buckled the bay into his rigging. 'I know that if Yeats is busy, you'll be my watchdog! It's okay...'Jack sighed.
Aleister stood, hands in pockets. 'Well, yes...but I do need some pipe and other bits...'he admitted.He had also brought a small derringer in his coat pocket,just in case... 'Suppose we'll be seeing Homer and Jethro at Woody's on St. Paddy's day!I'd like to go over some things with those lads.'
Jack nodded to Al and they took their seats in the cart. 'I'm betting they'll be there!' He clicked Trots into a walk, then shook his head slowly. 'Can't believe, really, that Yeats is even allowing me back at Woody's so soon.But, question not the reason why! I'd sure hate to miss it!'
Al was grinning. 'From what Emmeline has said, it's quite a week long celebration!'
'Oh?' Jack asked.
'Ah, well, yes...ran into her as she was out cycling the other day,' Al admitted. 'Anyway...yes. There's St. Paddy's at Woody's, with poetry and music. Quite a few folk from out of town will be coming for Druid Days. A lot of Welsh here who came to work the mines,and Cornishmen, and women--'Cousin Jacks and Jennys'.'
'Indeed?' Jack raised a brow and smiled at that. 'I like it.'
'Any Cornish in your mix, there, Cousin Jack?' Al enquired with a grin.
'None that I know...'Jack sighed. 'After the dust-up with Junior I feel I have a target on my back with a sign reading: 'Great Big Yid--Have A Go!''
'Ach, Jack...' Al clapped a hand on his shoulder, then frowned. 'I doubt if Junior would be showing up at Woody's again, even for this...'He peered ahead of him as they were nearing town. 'Say, isn't that Leon Guevara up the road, headed this way?'
It was indeed. Leon was riding one of his fine Andalusians, hard to tell which; such a well-matched pair he owned. Jack slowed the cart and stopped as he hailed Leon with a wave.'Leon! Good to see you.'
Leon smiled and pulled up before the men. 'Ah, Jack, and Dr. Parsons!'
'--Just 'Aleister', Leon, please!' Parsons enjoined, smiling.
Leon nodded, patting his horse's neck.
'Which are you riding, I can never tell them apart? Is this
Generalisimo or El Capitan?' Jack enquired.
'Ah. This is El Capitan!' Leon pointed to a hind leg. 'Do you see that small, infinitessimal white patch above his left hoof? That is the only way for others to tell them apart. Myself, I know my boys like my own children!'He sat back and regarded Al and Jack. 'So! Although the General would like to make a showing, I will be riding El Capitan in the race!'
'Race?'Jack asked, flicking a glance at Parsons, who looked down, studying horse hooves intently.
'Of course,'Leon continued,'The Druid Derby! You haven't heard?
It's to be Sunday the 18th, it's always the day after St. Patrick's Day. A nice cash purse for the winner!'He patted El Capitan, who tossed his fine head and snorted, as if impatient to claim it.'Also, perhaps to get the ladies not to object to a race on Sunday this year,'he winked, 'There's to be a'Bonnet and Pie' prize as well. Each lady who wishes to enter her pie as prize, will stow her hat upon the poles at the end of the racecourse and whoever takes the bonnet, will receive that good lady's prize pie!' The big Andalusian stamped his hoof and shook his reins. 'El Capitan cannot wait to be made the winner!'Leon laughed. 'But, we must be off! Good to see you both! And, I'll see you at the upcoming celebrations!'
After Leon took his leave, Jack and Al continued on into town.
'You didn't tell me there's to be a horserace!' Jack said to the doctor.
Al began to whistle then, and seemed to be concerned only with passing scenery. Jack recognized the tune;the Pogue's 'A Pistol For Paddy Garcia.'
                            . . . . .
'Oh, I lather'd him w'me shillelagh, for he trod on the hem o'me coat..! Mush, mush mush tural-i-ay!' Aleister sang as he exited the house onto the veranda with a mug of coffee in hand, and took a look about at the fresh wet March morning and the verdant hills about, the trees just beginning to bud, so they were, thought he...ah, a lovely spring day brings thoughts of fresh steaming horse pies to a man's mind. Al was thinking fertile thoughts of biodeisel and imagining he was just the man to spread the...miracle of merde throughout le monde...hadn't seen Homer & Jethro in awhile, not since their dinner here, he thought. He shook his head, taking a sip of hot french roast. He had blamed himself for Jack's sore head, not having accompanied Jack that night...well, Jack was just trying to do his job, really, to be fair.
As was Al. Their assignment wasn't all wine and roses...Al had enough wounds and scars of his own to know that, of all sorts...
He turned at a noise behind him and noted Jack up and joining him on the porch, mug in hand as well. Jack sat in one of the
wooden porch chairs. 'Morning, Al!'
'Hail and well met, Jack!' Parsons regarded him. Jack seemed nearly his old self again. Hoping that wasn't all bad, he decided it was at least an improvement over his more recent appearance.
'Well met, indeed Al,'Jack took a sip of java and closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet fresh morning air. 'It's good to have all this legal business behind us...the house sale, and now, to have Moore's award already from the library! He worked a miracle to have gotten us satisfaction so soon!To Moore and to Mr. Nader! Cheers!'
'Cheers, Jack!' Al drank off the rest of his brew. 'Sooo...what will you be doing with it then?'
'Give half to Em, of course. You know I only ponied up the cash to keep archives going for her job...which they bolloxed up good! Bastards...'Jack frowned at the floor. He sighed, 'Anyway,
she deserves something to start anew with.Least I can do...'
'Ah Jack,' Al surveyed the old place, 'You have done well by her, I think.'
'Yeats could argue with you on that one, Al...' Jack stood then and ambled off to the stables.
                           . . . . .
Emmeline awoke wondering where she was for a moment. She'd been in a deep dream before waking and surfaced into  unfamiliar
surroundings...then she recalled she'd moved Alice's bed to the parlor. And no Macky, no Frida. She leaned back against her pillows, trying to recall her dreamscape...someone was desperately trying to impart something to her...Alice maybe? She didn't think so...the harder she concentrated, the more fleeting the snatches of dream-leaves that now scattered and fled,dissolving into the light of new morning.
Ah, well...so it goes. The parlor was dark, and cold, she realized. And so quiet without MacGregor. She smiled, suddenly.
Here she was living in an empty house like a vagrant. She actually rather relished it.
She eschewed the woodstove in the kitchen, and opened the parlor curtains and built up the fire in the fireplace, swinging the old iron teakettle over the fire to heat, which didn't take long, really. She enjoyed camping in the parlor, and loved the simplicity of it all, and having only what was a basic necessity about her. Goddess, but she was relieved to be free of all the clutter that had grown up about her like mushrooms! As she set the tea to brew, she gazed out the windows and thought of her New Life...to be able to travel at long last! No longer harnessed to the clock and to be out from  under the constant
strain and stress of trying to do one's best at a job one could enjoy if only management wasn't so bent upon making one as miserable as possible while one was at it...
She poured her tea, taking a grateful sip. Nice and strong, good old iron pot! Well, times were hard. Management wanted to be rid of workers and save money. Pressuring people with stress and
pain hadn't worked, so they just gave up and gave many of us the boot at last. So be it. She was well out of it with that chapter closed then.
At last she had wings.
And a bicycle!
Em thought then of the Indigo Room at Crowley place and how it could be hers...the whole third floor. Hm. It both appealed and appalled. Naturally, she would love a turret room in an old mansion. That it was Jack's place, offered her by Jack, with Jack living there...that was appalling. She sighed, feeling the old creeping chains tightening about her, whilst she determined she would fly free of any and all such restraints.
Still, the room itself appealled, as if beyond reach of Jack or time and space itself. It seemed, to her, a world apart.
She thought of his wood floor in his turret room. Wonderful, that! The sheer beauty of the pale wood that showed through...what a wonder it would be, after sanding smooth, to laquer that and bring out the grain in all it's natural art.
It'd be well worth it, she thought. And, after all, it would be her world and her escape, when she wasn't out and about with Marta herb-gathering.Hmmm...I wonder how long I'd be gone, to begin? Would I have time to work on my room first?
Em took her cup and wandered about the empty, echoing parlor, and stopped by the windows to look out at the new spring shoots and buds. Equinox soon. 'Moon turns the tides' and a time of new beginnings. So it was with Em's life of late, truly.
She had a notion then. She wanted to work on the wood floor of the Indigo Room, and ready it for herself, for her retreat. Now, while she had time to do it.
She stole a glance at Lil Blue leaning against the wall in the hallway. 'Okay, Blue! Let's get to gettin'!'
                             . . . .
Mid-morning found her careening 'round the corner down Crowley Lane and up the drive to Crowley House. She heard the bang! Bang! Bang! of someone working on pounding metal with metal out behind the stables. Figuring it was Aleister probably working on some gadget or other, she leaned Blue against the porch and went up the stairs to the front door, not wishing to disturb the Man At Work...
She knocked. No answer. She tried the door then. It was open. 'Hello the house!' Em called.
'Em!'It was Jack. 'Up here!' He called to her from the second floor landing.
'Hullo, Jack! Am I interrupting anything?' She began to head upstairs, anxious now to see 'her' room.
'Not at all! In fact, I was thinking of stopping by your place later. Have a wee bit of news to share, is all...'He was smiling, wiping his hands on his large red bandana.
'Ah. Good news, I hope...' Em joined him in the foyer.
'It is.Mr. Moore was able to secure the monies the library owed us for closing the archives.'
'That's justice for a change! Congratulations, Jack! Well done!'
Em was relieved.
Jack thought he'd wait to tell her what he would do with the settlement. Plenty of time, now. 'So, what brings you here this fine morning?'
'Well, as you did mention something about staying in the Indigo Room?' Jack nodded, and motioned her up to third floor, 'Well, I wished to take a look at it, now, while I have a wee break between jobs! Perhaps, even get a start on the floor...'Em felt rather awkward still, to be appropriating Jack's property for herself...
Jack, however, had no such qualms. 'That's fine, Em! Probably be good to have it all ready for you by month's end. You'll be needing a place to relax and sleep in, when you're back to work.'He opened the Indigo Room door, and handed the key to her. 'Here. We have skeleton keys for all the rooms, but you needn't worry about that. Your private space is inviolable. So! You want to start with the floor then?'
Em took the key and stared about the room. It had a good feel to it.'I do.'She looked around at the walls.' And I love the color Jack, it's so subtle...'
'I tried to keep it nearly achromatic...so that it reflects color rather than projects...'
'Pearlescent...' It glided and slipped from her tongue. 'Ah... Yes, if I may, I wanted to get started sanding it down...'Em took off her coat and tied her hair back with a bandana of her own;stick to business, she coached.
'You know, Em...if you don't mind, that is--I could help. If we both were to work on it, we could have it sanded down by days' end...'
'Oh, Jack, really? '
'Not a big room, Em. And I'd enjoy the work. I would be working on it myself now, even if you weren't here to help you know!'
'Alright, Jack.' Em smiled at him and they got to work.
                              . . . .
Sunset found Jack and Em sharing sandwiches on the veranda, watching the westering sky turn red at the horizon. The bucolic idyll was interrupted by a battledore of chaos erupting from beyond the stables,climaxing with a great plume of smoke.
'S'alright, Em!' Jack assured her. 'It's just Al working on his steam-tractor!'
'Ah!'Em wondered about that. 'He...doesn't work into the evening on such...eh, projects, does he?'
'Sometimes...'Jack then realized what she meant. 'But, no, not making such a din! Not at night, don't worry. But, you must know that we all keep odd hours here. But we do like it quiet nights, even when we are up and about.'
That was good at least, Em decided.'Well! We did good work today, Jack, what do you think...?' she took a sip of her iced tea with lemon.
'That we did,'he agreed. 'Just needs some fine refinishing...and be ready to laquer up perhaps tomorrow.' He took a bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully awhile. 'It looks fine, Em. Nice wood under all that, eh?'
Emmeline was well pleased with the effect uncovered by hours of sanding away the dirt and rough bits. She sighed contentedly and stretched, taking the bandana out of her hair and shaking it free. 'It's coming together.'
Jack regarded her then, in the growing twilight. 'Would you like to stay in your room tonight, Em? Just thought you might want to...before laquering, just to, you know, get the feel of it! The laquer will take a couple of coats, and days drying. This would be a good time for it. You'll not get the chance again til after it's finished. That will be some days yet... We could just move a futon and tatami up to your room for tonight.'

'Hm.'Em thought a moment, warming to the idea. 'A futon?'
'It's a Japanese mattress, quite comfortable. A tatami is a woven straw mat, a floor covering, just large enough to fit under the futon and then some. You're just off the floor then.'
It sounded exactly like what Emmeline wanted. To be near her 'new' floor! 'It...does sound intriguing, Jack!'She bit her lower lip, thinking. Well, I needn't be at Alice's now to attend to Macky, even! So...she could stay, she realized. Perhaps I'll be able to capture that fleeting dream...
'Why not, Jack!'She smiled at him. 'I'd be delighted!'
                       . . . .
Later that evening, Emmeline helped Jack haul up the futon, as he called it. It was more like a huge sack of buckwheat, ungainly and hard to manage, especially upstairs.
'Ulf!'Jack let his end flop upon the mat, the tatami. 'Wrestling with these is like hefting about a large, drunken fat lady...ah, no offense Em...'
'That's ok, Jack. I agree with you! Heavy, aren't they?' But as Em surveyed the room, with the new paint relecting the moon outside, and her pale, newly sanded floor with only the sweet-grass smell of the tatami and the futon as the only furniture therein, she felt right at home. 'I like it. Just like this,' she announced.
'I know just what you mean, Em. It frees your mind, somehow, to live uncluttered.' Jack gazed at the effect of all the recent changes in the room. 'It's lookin' good.'
'We've done some good work, Jack. Thank you for your help.'
'Em, thank YOU. I didn't think I would have any help fixing up this place! Well...' He handed her the lantern. 'Until we get electric lighting in here, these will do. Al is working on some Tesla wireless notions. Just you wait, it'll be fine.'
'I like it just like this...the moon, and a low lamp.' Em stood at the window gazing out. 'It'd seem a shame to put up curtains, it's like making a window wear a futzy frock!'
Jack smiled. He liked his Em. 'I feel exactly the same.Bamboo blinds are nice. Of course, downstairs, the parlor is outfitted to pass for whatever is the style in the 19th century, for visitors' sake. But I prefer a more minimalist, Japanese sort of style, myself. Plain woods, mostly natural and unadorned. Space. That's the thing.'
Emmeline smiled, and turned to him. 'Exactly.'
'Well!, I'll leave it to you then, Em!' He went to the door. 'Sweet dreams.'
'Goodnight, Jack.'
                  
After her hard work that day, Emmeline had no problem sleeping.
As heavy as the futon was, it was still comfortable and most welcome to sleep upon. She loved the scent of the tatami, like new-mown hay, and also slept with her window open a wee crack.
Listening to the  sound of breezes outside and the odd stirrings of the men below, still moving about the house, she felt a languidness descend upon her and before she knew it, she had drifted off...
                           . . . .
Ocean waves crashed against the shore. Here, too, it was night. But that was all this place held in common with the point of origin where Emmeline still dozed in the Indigo Room...
'Is she with us yet?' Yeats's voice.
'I believe so...' Thelene answered. 'Anara?' No answer from the sleeping woman they had gathered about.
'Emmeline is with Anara now. We can let them be. They both need this...recharging of batteries...'She smiled and held a hand out to Yeats, who took it and followed her out of the room where pale light lay upon the womans' slumbering form.
Walking down the hallway, they went outdoors onto a balcony which  rose over the water in a semi-circle. Yeats was looking at Thelene as she gazed out over the water reflecting moonlight with a 'pearlescent' glow.
'It's good to see you, Thelene.' He said in a low rich voice.
Thelene's gaze never left the water. 'And you.' She sighed. 'Had your work cut out for you lately, I suppose...'
Yeats turned and clasping his hands, leaned against the railing and looked out over the bay. 'Oh, yes. As usual.'
Thelene held her head up and narrowed her gaze. 'I know that it is merely a temporary  port in a storm, having Emmeline stay at...that place, with you and with...Jack.' The way she mentioned Jack's name left no question about her less-than-warm feelings about that particular housemate of Em's.'However...'
She sighed. 'That young man is truly beyond redemption, I feel.
Especially after this last incident.'
Instead of objecting, Yeats merely stared at the waves crashing upon the shore below. 'Do you truly think so, Thelene?'
She rounded upon him then. 'He is ALL ego! Can you deny it? Even when he offers aid, it is only because it will reflect well upon him. He uses it as leverage.Would he ever consider an anonymous donation? Oh, do not get me started upon...Jack.' She nearly spat the name.She breathed in, closed her eyes and exhaled, waiting some minutes.'You know his background.'
'I do.' Yeats appeared unmoved.
Thelene was quiet, her stormy outburst now vented. She grasped the railing and closed her eyes, feeling the ocean breezes stir her hair. 'I know why you still believe in him, Shane.'
Yeats sighed and turned to her at last. 'I was a wild colonial boy like himself once upon a time, in a land, far, far away...'
'And don't be giving me your well-practiced blarney, Shane Devin Rowland Yeats!' She flashed dark eyes at him, full of fire.'You know that girl in there was nearly lost...'
'I do. And I accept full blame for that, Thelene. He thought he
was protecting her, and Alice.'
'That's all past. We cannot lose sight of why we're here, now.'
Thelene gripped the railing, he knuckles showing white. 'We are coming close now. We cannot let this chance pass us by.'
'Yes, I know. The world cannot stand to go on as it has much longer.' Yeats sighed then, a weary sound.
'Well, it is the equinox soon.'Thelene sounded hopeful again.
'Perhaps we'll be favored with grace at last.'
Yeats smiled. 'I never thought I would hear you speak of grace, my Thelene. You who believe that one gains only though one's own effort.'
She looked down at the sea-washed rocks far below. 'That is what I teach. How will these wayward children learn if not by their own efforts? Granting of boons by the goddess? True, the world no longer believes in what it cannot see, and touch, and tear apart. Blind, deaf and dumb folk, stumbling through their short and ever-worsening lives...how are they any better off than those who listened for a whisper on the wind that would tell them of their hearts' desire?'She shook her head. 'And now that people are so severed from nature, the earth, and from themselves...they have no respect for the very planet that gives them life, for water they can drink, for air that is fit to breathe...where there is no respect for women, there is none for the planet.'
'And so, they wither, and die.' Yeats proclaimed.
'Perhaps. If it is to be that cycle again so soon. The planet will live. But these blind ones, so full of greed, ego and violence will be gone. And, a new cycle shall begin.' She looked at him. 'That is certainly possible,' she conceded.
'Unless things change. Drastically.' Yeats looked at her in turn.

Thelene took Yeats by the hand again. 'That young woman in there, is not looking for the Nexus, my love.'
'She is not?'
'No, Shane. She IS the Nexus.'
                               . . . . .

THE WILD COLONIAL BOY
There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland in a place called Castlemaine
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy

At the early age of sixteen years, he left his native home
And to Australia's sunny shore he was inclined to roam
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor, he shot James McAvoy
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy

One morning on the prairie as Jack he rode along
A listening to the mockingbird a singing a cheerful song
Out stepped a band of troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy

"Surrender now Jack Duggan for you see we're three to one
Surrender in the Queen's high name for you're a plundering son"
Jack pulled two pistols from his belt and he proudly waved them high
"I'll fight, but not surrender," said the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground
And turning 'round to Davis, he received a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy