Green’s Dictionary of Slang

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The Bodhrán Makers choose

Quotation Text

[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 304: We are now at the mercy of every smart Alec and every gombeen man in the parish.
at smart aleck, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 152: Well, that’s the lady he’s knocking around with lately.
at knock around, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 305: Better to be with him than at the mercy of contrary priests and arse-lickin’ holy Josies.
at arse-licking (adj.) under arse-lick, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 349: ‘What you have, Oriel,’ Tom Tyler had once told him, ‘is what the old woman in the arsehole of Mayo, where I come from, used to call [...] Fá Gheasaibh which means under your spell.’.
at arsehole, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 206: Is she a blabbermouth or is she close?
at blabbermouth, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 188: Blasht me for an ape!
at blast, v.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 163: The scoundrel has a wife and nine children by his marriage and heaven only knows how many by-blows scattered all over the countryside.
at by-blow, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 337: Donal Hallapy laughed, well aware of Bluenose’s abhorrence for the land of John Bull.
at John Bull, n.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 174: Cackle away you oul’ crone but you may be sure that this bodhrán will be sounding long after we’re shoving up daisies.
at cackle, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 177: Long enough I’ve had to suffer your cackle day in day out.
at cackle, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 252: She had reprimanded him once when his donkey had left its calling card at the entrance to the garden.
at calling card, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 318: Only one, Father, [...] The other has fled the coop.
at fly the coop (v.) under coop, n.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 327: He was greeted with considerable amusement by the town’s layabouts and was followed to the empty house by several cornerboys.
at corner boy (n.) under corner, n.2
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 174: Cackle away you oul’ crone but you may be sure that this bodhrán will be sounding long after we’re shoving up daisies.
at push up (the) daisies, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 233: You stood there like a danged dummy and let me do all the talking.
at danged, adj.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 245: You’d want to get out o’ them duds quick, Father.
at duds, n.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 236: So she had now taken to frequenting wrendances. He had always suspected she was a bit of a flier.
at high-flyer, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 180: The only body that should not give ear to them is an oul’ woman, especially one that gabs all day.
at gab, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 305: Better be with him than at the mercy of contrary priests and arse-lickin’ holy Josies.
at holy Joe, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 162: Only for the regular dose of the hot stuff [...] there is no way I would stay on course.
at hot stuff, n.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 182: When Bluenose and myself kicks it that’s the last Dirrabeg will see of them.
at kick it, v.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 304: What kills me [...] is the way they parade up and down to the altar or is it how I’m being unfair?
at kill, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 13: ‘Willie Smiley.’ He repeated the name contemptuously. ‘What a monicker for that big, blubbery, misbegotten bastard!’.
at monniker, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 289: You have an awful neck to show up here.
at neck, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 169: ‘Bullocks’ notions is what you have you poor oul’ thing,’ she cracked as she moved out of his reach. ‘Go up to the room at once and strip and you’ll see what notions I have.’.
at notion, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 303: He’d screw a rat through a manhole cover.
at screw, v.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 181: ‘Have you any more Irish?’ Katie asked. ‘Hardly any I’m sorry to say [...] It was swept from us by time and by the shoneen and the foreigner.’.
at shoneen, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 152: ‘He’s sparking.’ ‘Sparking!’ The Canon echoed the word in bewilderment. ‘Sparking with Daisy Fleece.’.
at spark, v.1
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 153: ‘Anonymous my tail,’ Nora Devane scoffed.
at my tail! (excl.) under tail, n.
[Ire] J.B. Keane Bodhrán Makers 283: Go downstairs, woman, [...] and wet us a sup of tea.
at wet the tea leaves (v.) under tea, n.
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