"Lord help us! Would you listen to thon uns runnin' down the priests and bishops"

"Indeed I hear them! The blackguards! Bad-mouthin' and rubbishin' the very people that risked death at the Mass-rock till bring us through the penal times."

"They've no shame. That's what it is!"

"You're right there, missus! Shame's a thing they're badly wantin'."

"I mane. It's not as if there's not plenty they could red-up, if they had half a mind, and lave the clargy alone. Take Christy Moore for example!"

"Oh, a rip!"

"A rip, indeed! Had us all fooled for a wee minute into thinkin' he was a good oul' singer of good oul' songs. And the next thing you know he thinks he's a court jester! Don't forget your shovel, indeed!"

"I wouldn't forget my shovel, missus! And I'd tell you where I'd shove it, too! Suas his owl hone is where I'd lose it! And Knock!"

"Knock indeed! I'd knock him! Knock seven colours of shite out of him I would! And Ride On!"

"Ride On me arse! What a dirge! And what's it all about anyway? Whoever writ a song till a horse anyways?"

"Still and all, it could be worse! He could be Mary Black!"

"Heaven bless us, but you've hit the spot there, missus. Thon Mary Black wan was a fly blade, too, wasn't she? Givin' us the pure drap for a bit and then next thing you know she thinks she's Celine Dion! She's near as bad as thon Maura O'Connell wan!"

"Quit talkin'! Sure Dolores Keane's as bad. One minute she's singin' Galway Bay like it would tear your heart in flitters and the next thing she's got drummers and kayboord players behine her. Who does she think she is, anyways? Sinead O'Connor?"

"Oh, don't start me on thon huzzy! Did you know she tore up a pixture of the Pope in America one time?"

"What? Was the Pope in America? I've got a picture of him in Galway, bless him. Scooting about in thon Popemobile like he was on the dodgems at Omeath!"

"No! Jaysus! She was in America and she tore up a pixture of the Pope."

"Heavens! Even Paisley wouldn't be at the like of thon!"

"Indeed. But there you go. These'ns think they've nothing to do on'y slag off the clargy! If y'ast me they'd be better off directin' their oul spleen where it's desarved!"
"Like at Christy Moore!"

"Well said, missus! Oh thon un was a rip!"

"A rip indeed! Oh look, thon's my bus commin'! I'll see ya later!"