Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut, and bruised, and he's walking with a limp.
'What happened to you?' asks Sean , the bartender.'
Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight,' says Paddy.
'That little O'Conner ,' says Sean , 'He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.'
'That he did,' says Paddy, 'a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it.'
'Well,' says Sean , 'you should have defended yourself. Didn't you have something in your hand?'
That I did,' said Paddy, ' Mrs. O'Conner 's breast, and a thing of beauty it was; but useless in a fight.'