Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 15 Page 102

The air is perfumed with essences. The men cheer. Bloom’s boys run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes.)

BLOOM’S BOYS:

The wren, the wren,

The king of all birds,

Saint Stephen’s his day

Was caught in the furze.

A BLACKSMITH: (Murmurs.) For the honour of God!

And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone.

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That’s the famous Bloom now, the world’s greatest reformer. Hats off!

(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.)