'D'ye want tin years fer riot, an' murther, an' dish turbin' the peace?
Look peaceable, an' frindly, an' lovin', if it's in yez so to do.

Moran, ye sulky haythen, wud ye be hangin' the lot av us?
Shmile 'r I'll black the other oye of ye! Shmile, ye hi-potomus! At this instant the line of troopers rode in between the parties, with a clattering of scabbard and chain.

The sergeant drew his foaming bay up sharp and confronted Devoy.
'What is the meaning of this, my man ?' he demanded.
'Meanin' which, sor ?' Devoy cocked a black and swollen eye at the officer, and smiled innocently over a lacerated chin.
'Meaning this.' The trooper waved a white glove over the congregation.
'Sure, it's a bit of a game only--a bit of a friendly game o' football, as ye may see wid the own eyes of ye.' Dick's football had just bounced in between the opposing bodies.

The officer ran an eye over the crowd, noting the bloodstains.
'You play football in a funny way at Waddy,' he said.
'We play it wid enthusiasm.' 'Enthusiasm! I should say you played it with shillelahs.

Do you always get cracked skulls and black eyes when you play football ?' 'It's our pleasant way, sor.' 'Is it?
Well, how the devil do you play football?
What is the meaning of this pile of logs ?' 'Meaning the fines, sergeant?
It's this way: we of Waddy stands on this side, an' thim of Cow Flat forninst us on the other side, an' we kicks it over t' thim, an' they kicks it back to ourselves, an', sure, the side what kicks it over the most frequent wins.