_Policeman X:_ And if we get him itself, nothing but abuse on our heads for it from the people, and maybe from our own relations. _Sergeant:_ Well, we have to do our duty in the force. Haven’t we the whole country depending on us to keep law and order? It’s those that are down would be up and those that are up would be down, if it wasn’t for us. Well, hurry on, you have plenty of other places to placard yet, and come back here then to me. You can take the lantern. Don’t be too long now. It’s very lonesome here with nothing but the moon. _Policeman B:_ It’s a pity we can’t stop with you. The Government should have brought more police into the town, with _him_ in gaol, and at assize time too. Well, good luck to your watch. (_They go out._) _Sergeant:_ (_Walks up and down once or twice and looks at placard._) A hundred pounds and promotion sure. There must be a great deal of spending in a hundred pounds. It’s a pity some honest man not to be the better of that. (_A ragged man appears at left and tries to slip past. Sergeant suddenly turns._) _Sergeant:_ Where are you going? _Man:_ I’m a poor ballad-singer, your honour. I thought to sell some of these (_holds out bundle of ballads_) to the sailors. (_He goes on._) _Sergeant:_ Stop! Didn’t I tell you to stop? You can’t go on there. _Man:_ Oh, very well. It’s a hard thing to be poor. All the world’s against the poor! _Sergeant:_ Who are you? _Man:_ You’d be as wise as myself if I told you, but I don’t mind. I’m one Jimmy Walsh, a ballad-singer. _Sergeant:_ Jimmy Walsh? I don’t know that name. _Man:_ Ah, sure, they know it well enough in Ennis. Were you ever in Ennis, sergeant? _Sergeant:_ What brought you here? _Man:_ Sure, it’s to the assizes I came, thinking I might make a few shillings here or there. It’s in the one train with the judges I came. _Sergeant:_ Well, if you came so far, you may as well go farther, for you’ll walk out of this. _Man:_ I will, I will; I’ll just go on where I was going. (_Goes towards steps._) _Sergeant:_ Come back from those steps; no one has leave to pass down them to-night. _Man:_ I’ll just sit on the top of the steps till I see will some sailor buy a ballad off me that would give me my supper. They do be late going back to the ship. It’s often I saw them in Cork carried down the quay in a hand-cart. _Sergeant:_ Move on, I tell you. I won’t have any one lingering about the quay to-night. _Man:_ Well, I’ll go. It’s the poor have the hard life! Maybe yourself might like one, sergeant. Here’s a good sheet now. (_Turns one over._) “Content and a pipe”—that’s not much. “The Peeler and the goat”—you wouldn’t like that. “Johnny Hart”—that’s a lovely song. _Sergeant:_ Move on. _Man:_ Ah, wait till you hear it. (_Sings:_)