Dubliners by James Joyce Chapter 9 Page 31

“Take that, you little whelp!”

The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. He clasped his hands together in the air and his voice shook with fright.

“O, pa!” he cried. “Don’t beat me, pa! And I’ll ... I’ll say a Hail Mary for you.... I’ll say a Hail Mary for you, pa, if you don’t beat me.... I’ll say a Hail Mary....”