on iv it,
though th' docthor said I swallowed a bug. It don't seem right, Jawn,
f'r th' McGuires is a clane fam'ly; but th' docthor said a bug got
into me system. 'What sort iv bug?' says I. 'A lah grip bug,' he says.
'Ye have Mickrobes in ye'er lungs,' he says. 'What's thim?' says I.
'Thim's th' lah grip bugs,' says he. 'Ye took wan in, an' warmed it,'
he says; 'an' it has growed an' multiplied till ye'er system does be
full iv' thim,' he says, 'millions iv thim,' he says, 'marchin' an'
counthermarchin' through ye.' 'Glory be to the saints!' says I. 'Had I
better swallow some insect powdher?' I says. 'Some iv thim in me head
has a fallin' out, an' is throwin' bricks.' 'Foolish man,' says he.
'Go to bed,' he says, 'an' lave thim alone,' he says, 'Whin they find
who they're in,' he says, 'they'll quit ye.'

"So I wint to bed, an' waited while th' Mickrobes had fun with me.
Mondah all iv thim was quite but thim in me stummick. They stayed up
late dhrinkin' an' carousin' an' dancin' jigs till wurruds come up
between th' Kerry Mickrobes an' thim fr'm Wexford; an' th' whole party
wint over to me left lung, where they cud get th' air, an' had it out.
Th' nex' day th' little Mickrobes made a toboggan slide iv me spine;
an' manetime some Mickrobes that was wurkin' f'r th' tilliphone
comp'ny got it in their heads that me legs was poles, an' put on their
spikes an' climbed all night long.

"They was tired out th' nex' day till about five o'clock, whin thim
that was in me head begin flushin' out th' rooms; an' I knew there was
goin' to be doin's in th' top flat. What did thim Mickrobes do but
invite all th' other Mickrobes in f'r th' ev'nin'. They all come. Oh,
by gar, they was not wan iv them stayed away. At six o'clock they
begin to move fr'm me shins to me throat. They come in platoons an'
squads an' dhroves. Some iv thirn brought along brass bands, an' more
thin wan hundherd thousand iv thim dhruv through me pipes on dhrays. A
throlley line was started up me back, an' ivry car run into a
wagon-load iv scrap iron at th' base iv me skull.

"Th' Mickrobes in me head must 've done thimsilves proud. Ivry few
minyits th' kids 'd be sint out with th' can, an' I'd say to mesilf:
'There they go, carryin' th' thrade to Schwartzmeister's because I'm
sick an' can't wait on thim.' I was daffy, Jawn, d'ye mind. Th' likes
iv me fillin' a pitcher f'r a little boy-bug! Such dhreams! An' they
had a game iv forty-fives; an' there was wan Mick