Bull: (Leaning on bar, in an ecstasy of accomplishment)
I watched this field for forty years and my father
before me watched it for forty more. I know ever rib of
grass and thistle and every whitethorn bush that bounds it.
(To BIRD) There's shamrock in the south-west corner.
Shamrock, imagine! The north part is bound by forty
sloe bushes. Some fool planted them once, but they're
a good hedge. This is a great little field, this is an
independent little field that wants eatin'.