PART 1C “The Wit War, The Truce & The Legend”

[Intro — crowd still erupting from Part 1B, fiddle and pipes enter together for first time, playing the same line] [CIARÁN — Wit Verse] (Voice 1 — rapid fire, sharp as a blade) Now onto the wit the sharpest of blades Is géire ár dteanga ná claíomh (phonetic: iss GEY-ruh awr DJANG-uh naw KLEE-uv) — Our tongue is sharper than any sword — Oscar Wilde was an Irishman — fact not debate He’d out-clever a Scotsman before half past eight [ALASDAIR — Wit Verse] (Voice 2 — dangerously calm, one eyebrow raised) Aye Oscar was clever we’ll grant you the man But Billy Connolly exists — what’s your fucking plan? He stood on a stage and made thousands weep-laugh Tha e na fhear-gàire gun choimeas (phonetic: ha eh nuh er-GAR-uh goon KOY-us) — He is a comedian without equal — Have ye heard Connolly talk about shite in a shoe? [CIARÁN — Response, building] We’ll raise you Brendan Behan half-mad and inspired Dhruidfeadh sé do chroí (phonetic: GHRID-hyuh shey duh KHREE) — He would break open your very heart — Drank himself famous and never got tired Said “other countries have a literature — Ireland has a fucking tradition” [ALASDAIR — Response, beat of silence first] (spoken, slow) … …chan urrainn dhomh sin a dhiùltadh. (phonetic: chan OOR-in ghome shin ah YOO-ltuh) — I cannot argue with that. CIARÁN: We know. ALASDAIR: Fuck off. CIARÁN: Gladly. (orders two pints — one for each of them) ALASDAIR: (pause) …cheers ya Irish bastard. CIARÁN: Cheers ya Scottish cunt. [RECONCILIATION VERSE — both voices together, warm, slightly drunk, genuine] CIARÁN & ALASDAIR: Seo deoch duit is deoch dom féin (phonetic: shuh djukh ditch iss djukh dum FAYN) — Here’s a drink for you and a drink for me — Slàinte mhath agus sláinte mhór (phonetic: SLAHN-chuh vah AH-gus SLAWN-chuh VORE) — Good health and great health — So here’s to the Irish and here’s to the Scots We’ve insulted each other and given our lots We’ve argued the drinking the women the wit And at the end of the evening we don’t give a shit Because we’re cut from the same mad and glorious stone Dá náisiún amháin (phonetic: daw NAW-shoon ah-WAWN) — Two nations, one heart — Too stubborn to ever drink alone [FINAL CHORUS — full band, both voices, crowd anthemic and roaring] It’s Irish AND Scottish united tonight We came here for war but we’re too drunk to fight Who drinks the most? WE BOTH FUCKING DO Whose women are wilder? HAVE YOU SEEN THE TWO? Pour another round there’s no winner here lads Just two Celtic nations being gloriously mad Nobody lost and nobody’s leaving till dawn Pour the Guinness and whisky and everyone SING ALONG— [OUTRO — music slows, just fiddle and pipes quietly together, both voices low and warm] CIARÁN: (soft) Oíche mhaith, a chara (phonetic: EE-huh wah, ah KHAR-uh) — Good night, my friend ALASDAIR: (equally soft) Oidhche mhath, a charaid (phonetic: OY-khuh vah, ah KHAR-atch) — Good night, my friend CIARÁN: Same words again. ALASDAIR: Aye. Always the same fucking words. [Two glasses clink — single fiddle note — silence]