Artist: James Joyce
Lyrics of Artist: James Joyce
Lyrics of Artist: James Joyce
[Lyric] A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Chap. 5 (James Joyce)
He drained his third cup of watery tea to the dregs and set to chewing the crusts of fried bread that were scattered near him, staring into the dark pool of the jar. The yellow dripping had been scooped out like a boghole and the pool under it brought back to his memory the dark turf-coloured water of the bath in Clongowes. The box of pawn tickets...Learn MoremiscJames Joyce[Lyric] A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Chapter 1 (James Joyce)
Chapter 1 Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo... His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where...Learn MoremiscJames Joyce[Lyric] A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Chap. 4 (James Joyce)
Sunday was dedicated to the mystery of the Holy Trinity, Monday to the Holy Ghost, Tuesday to the Guardian Angels, Wednesday to saint Joseph, Thursday to the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Altar, Friday to the Suffering Jesus, Saturday to the Blessed Virgin Mary Every morning he hallowed himself anew in the presence of some holy image or mystery....Learn MoremiscJames Joyce[Lyric] Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Chapter 2 (James Joyce)
Chapter 2 Uncle Charles smoked such black twist that at last his nephew suggested to him to enjoy his morning smoke in a little outhouse at the end of the garden —Very good, Simon. All serene, Simon, said the old man tranquilly. Anywhere you like. The outhouse will do me nicely: it will be more salubrious —Damn me, said Mr Dedalus frankly, if I...Learn MorerapJames Joyce[Lyric] A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Chap. 3 (James Joyce)
The swift December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull day and, as he stared through the dull square of the window of the schoolroom, he felt his belly crave for its food. He hoped there would be stew for dinner, turnips and carrots and bruised potatoes and fat mutton pieces to be ladled out in thick peppered flour-fattened sauce....Learn MoremiscJames Joyce[Lyric] The Dead (James Joyce)
LILY, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantry behind the office on the ground floor and helped him off with his overcoat than the wheezy hall-door bell clanged again and she had to scamper along the bare hallway to let in another guest. It was well for her she had not to...Learn MoremiscJames Joyce