That's it.
The heavyweight champion
of the world, Muhammad Ali,
who used to be Cassius Clay,
against the big, ugly
Sonny Liston.
Ha!
Did he win?
She did! Our own little
Muhammad Ali
is the new heavyweight champion
of the world!
One-two! One-two! A-one!
Let ye get out of it.
One-two! One-two!
Duck! One-two!
Watch out for Sonny Liston.
Faster!
One-two. One-two.
And duck! One-two. One-two.
Sonny's coming for ya.
Punch Granny.
Now would you leave
the lackeen down, son?
Francis, would ya get down,
ya devil!
Who's the greatest?
Francis, who is the greatest?
Look at me, Mammy!
I am the greatest!
Aren't I the greatest, Mammy?
'Course you are,
sure aren't you
your mammy's daughter.
And you're the greatest, too,
Patrick. That right, son?
One-two. One.
Huh, Patrick? One-two.
Would ya leave the boy alone,
Michael?
Get us a sup of tea.
This baby's awful thirsty.
And, ah, what will you give me?
Give him a song!
That'll do him!
Yeah, sing. Mammy'll sing.
Watch.
And I'll play me banjo.
Watch.
- Michael.
- Don't mind the tae.
Wet your throat with that.
It'll do ya good.
Do ya want me to sing or not?
Come on, Mammy.
Come on, Francis.
Sit down. Come on.
What do yiz want?
Ah, me favorite.
Shh! Whisht you!
¶ Oh, we are
the travelling people ¶
¶ Like the Picts
or Beaker Folk ¶
¶ The men in Whitehall
think we're parasites ¶
¶ But tinker is a word ¶
¶ And with your gum,
shellac, shalay, shala ¶
¶ Move us on, ya boyoes ¶
¶ Well, I have a little woman ¶
¶ And a mother
she is to be ¶
¶ She gets her basket
on her arm ¶
¶ And she mooches
the hills for me ¶
¶ And with your gum,
shellac, shalay, shala ¶
¶ Wallop it out, ya boyoes ¶
¶ Well, we've been married
twenty year ¶
¶ And nineteen children
we have got ¶
¶ Ah, sure when one
is hardly walking ¶
¶ The other is in the cot ¶
¶ And with your gum,
shellac, shalay, shala ¶
¶ Move us on, ya boyoes ¶
That's a nice bit of singing,
in fairness.
Don't let us stop ye.
Sorry, Sergeant.
Show's over.
Is there anything else
ye came for,
other then a bit of a sing-song?
That child should be in school,
not running around
like a wild savage.
You stop it, Francis.
They're the cruelty men that
take the bold children away.
Don't mind him daughter.
He has an inny in the toe.
What did you say?
Today's a holy day, Sergeant.
There's no school on a holy day.
What f*cking holy day?
The day Muhammad Ali
punched a hole in Sonny Liston.
That f*cking holy day.
Tell your son to mind
his manners, Mr. Joyce.
Show some respect
for his betters.
Pipe down, son.
We don't want no trouble now.
Come here to me,
young madam.
Now...
tell me,
do you go to school?
She's only young yet, Sergeant.
Younger then she looks.
What age are you?
- Nine.
- Six.
She was six, Sergeant.
And one day, please God,
she'll be nine.
If I gave you four apples
and took away two,
how many would you have left?
- Oh!
- Sweet Jesus.
Hold it, hold it, son.
Leave my lackeen alone!
Take your hands off her!
Stay back!
Get off me, ya f*cking bitch!
Hold it!
Stop, son!
You'll only make things worse!
Mammy! Mammy.
Francis, you're Mammy's
little champion, aren't ya?
- Get up, Mammy!
- Calm down, ye!
- Ye'll k*ll the man!
- Go back inside, Patrick!
Get out of my f*cking way!
Hold him!
Hold the f*cking knacker!
You don't let anybody
knock ya down, Francis.
Keep your head up.
- Margaret!
- Get up!
Daddy, help!
Get up! Come on!
Get up, ya f*cking knacker!
Ohh!
Mammy, get up!
Margaret!
Margaret!
Margaret!
Daddy!
Francis!
Daddy!
Behind ya, Eamonn!
It's your father!
Hurry!
Where do your think
you're going?
I asked you a question.
It was Eamonn started it, Dada.
The tinkers weren't
doing anything.
Only getting periwinkles.
Get up to the car, you. Now!
Apologize to my son
for assaulting him.
Apologize!
Do you want to see
your father rot in jail?
Say sorry, Francis.
Right. It's off to the f*cking
workhouse with the pair of ye.
They'll b*at the badness
out of ye.
I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant."
I'm sorry, Sergeant.
27, 28, 29...
30, 31, 32...
What happened to ya, Francis?
Is that all the winkles
ya got, Patrick?
What were ya up to, Francis?
Stay here.
Francis! Francis!
Your granny is
talking to you, Francis!
'Tis worse
that one is getting.
Get them wet things
off ya, Patrick,
before ya catch your death.
Did ya fall in?
They pushed us.
Don't be petting.
Don't be acting
like a girl.
Francis!
Mammy's little champion.
You don't let anybody
knock ya down, Francis.
I won't tell ya again,
Francis!
Punch!
Faster! One-two!
I speak out
for what I believe,
like you've got
people in Ireland
fighting for
what they believe.
Good man, Ali!
Come on over to Ireland,
put manners on the lot of them
white divils.
White divils!
Do ya hear him?
Sure, aren't ya
a white divil yourself?
We might look white
on the outside,
but inside the travelling people
is the blacks of Ireland.
Never has a sl*ve
got up and said,
"I am the greatest.
I cannot lose."
Oi, did ya hear the news,
Big Daddy?
Ah, would ya whisht!
What news?
Step in by the fire
and don't be standing there
like a sergeant with a summons.
Who you you like to see
by the fire
this time tomorrow, Patrick?
- Elvis Presley.
- Huh?
I know. Muhammad Ali.
Elvis Presley
and Muhammad Ali?
Did ya hear them?
You're nothing but traitors!
Now what would
your daddy say?
Their daddy?
That's right, sister,
your Michael.
What about our Michael?
Out of jail?
Haven't he a year to go?
The judge said--
They must've needed
a cell quickly.
This time tomorrow, your daddy's
going to be a free man.
But he won't know me.
Sure he won't.
Of course he will.
Your daddy never forgot
his little man
or his little woman!
You're going to have
to behave yourself, Francis,
because it won't be easy
on your daddy
with your mammy gone.
And your going to have
to look after him
until he gets his feet
under him, do ya hear me?
Isn't that right, Big Daddy?
Your daddy won't be long,
putting manners on ye!
Isn't that right, Muhammad Ali?
Yeah, Muhammad Ali, she says!
And like I'm not only
winning boxing.
I'ma win also in the movement
that I follow for my people.
Ow!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
Thought it was a ghost.
You're the walking shadow
of your mammy,
Lord have mercy on her.
Who's that? Francis?
That's never our Francis!
I don't believe ya!
You're codding me!
Come here till I see
the little changeling.
Show me your muscles.
Ah, that-a-girl.
Now I knows ya.
Stop that!
Your daddy will chop of your
fingers with a carving Kn*fe
and throw them in there
with the crubeens.
- He wouldn't do that to us.
- Oh, sure he would.
He'd chop up the pair of us
and eat us for breakfast.
You know the one mistake
I ever made, Francis?
I should have skinned that snake
whilst I had the chance.
- The sergeant?
- You whisht, you!
With that foolish talk.
Don't mind him, Francis.
That's the whiskey talking.
Better to die on your feet
than live all your life
on your knees.
Am I right or am I wrong,
Francis?
You're right, Granddad.
He'd be six foot under
if it was up to me.
Right. Bed with ye.
Ah, but it's only early yet.
Will ye go on?
No back answering.
Jesus.
Don't destroy it.
One-two, Francis.
One-two!
We are the greatest.
We said it
before we knew we was.
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Anois ar theacht
an tsamhraidh ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Anois ar theacht
an tsamhraidh ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
Oi, out, out!
¶ Anois ar theacht
an tsamhraidh ¶
¶ Óró, sé do ¶
What the hell was that?
Whisht, will you?
Women and children are asleep!
Oh! Oh, ah, f*ck.
Ah, bollocks!
Go easy, lads.
Don't break the place up.
Francis, where are ya?
'Tis I have a surprise for ya.
Ah, Jesus Christ.
Oh, Mother.
Get off the man, will ya?
Get off me!
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
¶ Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile ¶
Margaret?
That you, Margaret?
You smell like apples.
Did you eat a load of
big red apples while I was away?
Don't be talking nonsense, son.
Your Margaret
is dead and buried.
You know that.
Go inside, Francis.
Don't be gawking
at your daddy. Go on!
Will you help me
get him inside, lads?
See? There.
In the brown suit.
That's our daddy.
Daddy! Here he is.
'Tis your son.
He's a free man at last.
Huh. They didn't starve you
anyways.
No wonder you was
in no hurry to get out.
That's right. I was having
the time of me life.
Locked in a cage
you wouldn't put a dog in.
Here, son.
Eat something
and line the stomach.
Ha! Line the stomach
with that!
Francis, give your daddy
a kiss. Go on.
Francis.
You're after getting big.
She was a good girl.
She behaved herself lovely
while ye were gone.
She only b*at
a dozen or so heads.
Show your daddy your muscles.
Look at that.
That's more than you had
at her age.
That's dangerous!
You has to be finding her
a husband quick, I'd say.
Is that the way, huh?
Christ.
Want your daddy
to get you a husband?
I'd rather you brought me
to see Muhammad Ali.
You know he's fighting Blue Al
in Dublin.
Will you bring me?
Do! Take her off to Dublin
and throw her in the ring
with himself.
She'll give Ali a run
for his money, so she will.
Will you leave the man alone,
and he only landed.
You're still your daddy's girl,
aren't ya, Francis?
Good girl.
Where's my little man?
Let me look at him.
Come here to me.
What's that muck on your face?
It's Smarties.
He was eating Smarties.
Smarties?
From Rice Krispie buns &
Ya clown, ya!
Here, give him
a guzzle of that.
He's been too long
on his granny's lap.
Drink this up, son.
Drink it up.
Go on, go on.
Sweet Jesus!
He'll k*ll the child.
He's fine. He's spilling more
than he's swallowing.
My son and heir,
Patrick Joyce.
Finished?
Come on with me.
Come on.
Come on.
Into the sea with ya. Go on.
Keep scrubbing.
What are you gawking at?
Nothing.
I was just seeing
if you like... like butter.
Do I like butter?
Christ.
Will you pass me my fags?
They're in the jacket pocket.
You weren't lonesome for me
at all, I suppose.
Hurry up, Francis!
You'll be late for school.
School? You're not going
to no school today.
Nor tomorrow neither.
It's not every day your daddy
comes home from jail.
But Nana says that I--
Nana's not the boss
of you anymore.
I am.
¶ All those who d*ed
for liberty ¶
¶ Have d*ed but for a dream ¶
¶ So then rise ¶
¶ Rise ¶
¶ Rise ¶
Go on, Mama. Go on!
You never lost it, Mammy.
I haven't the same wind
I used to.
She has so.
I shared a bed with her
last night.
She had no shortage
of wind then.
You behave yourself, you.
Francis, give us a song.
Quick, before your granddad
digs his own grave.
No. I don't know no songs.
Ah, you do.
Sing the one your mammy
used to sing ya.
She has her mother's gift, son.
Her mother's gift is right.
And the temper of a red devil.
- The banjo, huh?
- No.
- Come on, Michael.
- No, no, no, no.
- "P for Paddy."
- Come on.
¶¶
¶ P stands for Paddy,
I suppose ¶
¶ J for my love ¶
Papers.
Sign that.
What's wrong with ya?
Can't you sign your own name?
Make an X.
Can you manage an X?
We'll see you next week.
Ooh!
That's hers.
Come on. Come on!
Hit me.
All right, come on.
One-two. One-two.
Mike, come on.
Can I come too?
How many times you have
to be told, Francis?
Why can't I not?
Because!
Please, Daddy.
Daddy?
We right?
You're useless.
What did you say?
- What did you say?
- Nothing. She said nothing.
Right? She just wants to be
with her daddy, that's all.
Oh!
Good enough for you?
Feed her for me there.
Make sure she finishes it all.
If she had one of her own,
that would keep her
out of mischief.
She has plenty of time yet.
Plenty of time for what,
causing trouble?
Pow. Pow-pow.
Whoo!
Francis, nip to the shop.
Get us a sup of milk and twenty
Woodbines for your father.
Quick, before he wakes.
Get your filthy paws
out of my sweets!
How many of them do you want?
Are you deaf or stupid?
How many do you want?
Get out.
Get out, ya filthy thing!
This girl was just
on top of him,
going up and down,
up and down.
They stayed nonstop.
Watch where you're going,
knacker!
The tinkers are out
robbing the place! Lock it up!
Leave it.
Leave it, I said!
Go on, ya smelly tinker.
Smell her, lads!
f*cking waste!
Rotten one.
Grab hold of the thing.
It wont bite you.
Aah! Feels funny.
You try again.
Sit!
Hold it.
I'll do it.
Like this.
Ugh!
Like that.
Go away and wash yourself.
Bang, bang, bang.
There's only one thing
would cure a temper like that.
A match.
What's going on?
Nana?
Hey, how do you likes
your new home?
That's Uncle Tommy's.
She needs the outing, Francis.
If she doesn't,
she'll only get rusty.
Pack up your things, Francis.
We're going on the road.
Are you not coming too,
Granddad?
Eh, we're too old
for that racket.
So only me and Patrick's
going then?
- Yup.
- No.
You can't just
tear 'em out of school.
We'll have social workers down
on top of us,
threatening to
take 'em away from us.
Childer nowadays
has to get their education.
They'll get their education
on the road, same as ourselves.
Daddy's right, Nana.
School's no good.
They don't teach us nothing.
Only makes us sit
in the back of the class
and color in stupid pictures
of their old houses.
What about your parole?
Haven't you to be here to show
the sergeant your papers?
Every week, they said.
Hell with them
and their papers.
You a free man or not, son?
Give me that.
Light that, you.
No flesh and blood of mine
is going to no school
what only learns 'em
how to roll over and play dead.
Here now.
Let that keep you safe.
Bend down to me here, Patrick.
Here, son.
You're nearly as handsome
as meself.
Be a good gossom, Patrick.
Do ya hear me? Good gossom.
Go on now.
Be a good girl, Francis.
Look after your daddy.
And don't be giving him
a hard time, do ya hear?
Hup.
¶ I was born on the road
on the way to Puck Fair ¶
¶ Tumbled out quick
with me fine head of hair ¶
¶ Me daddy fed me
buttered spuds ¶
¶ Mammy fed me stout ¶
¶ And offs we fecks to the fair
to parade me all about ¶
¶ But what did we see
when we gets to Killorglin ¶
¶ But an old billy goat ¶
¶ And he blowin'
his mouth organ ¶
¶ All eyes was on King Billy ¶
¶ Not one did light on me ¶
¶ They were bowing
and a-scraping ¶
¶ And saluting
his old fleas ¶
¶ So up I leaps like lighting ¶
¶ And I grab
King Billy's crown ¶
¶ And I crawls upon
his golden throne ¶
¶ And I sits
me royal ass down ¶
¶ Says I to all and sundry ¶
¶ Are ye blind drunk
on Poitín ¶
¶ 'Tis I was born
this very morn ¶
¶ To be your rightful queen ¶
¶ Poor Billy didn't like it ¶
¶ Didn't he puck me
with his horns ¶
¶ But if he did,
I grabbed his shmig ¶
¶ And I boxed him
till he mourned ¶
¶ Well, out popped every eye ¶
¶ Every gob did spill
a tongue ¶
¶ To see a one
so bold and fierce ¶
¶ And she only
one day young ¶
Whoa, Buttercup.
Now... which way?
Now you decide, Buttercup, huh?
There's no wrong way when
you're going the right road.
This is the life, huh?
Right.
¶ I'm not blowing
me own trumpet ¶
¶ Well, the truth,
it is well-known ¶
¶ And if you don't believe me ¶
¶ Well, feck off
and póg me thóin ¶
¶ Every year that ever is ¶
¶ In a well-known Irish town ¶
¶ People from all corners come
to give this queen her crown ¶
¶¶
You shouldn't be smoking
around the paraffin.
- It could go up on you.
- Could it now?
How did I ever manage to survive
before you came along?
Is that your daddy?
He's not the ugliest man
in the world.
¶¶
Is he good to ya?
He is the greatest.
It must be lonesome
without your mammy.
And where's your own husband?
Is he gone off on ya?
He is.
Gone off to heaven for himself.
So how much?
By years, we go.
He's five years old.
We'll say five.
Would you be interested
in buying him?
I think we could do business,
all right. How much?
I'd want to get thirty quid
for this animal.
Michael Joyce,
the slayer of sergeants!
What hole in the ground
did you crawl out of?
He don't recognize me
without me teeth.
Pa Quinn. Your mother's people
and mine go way back.
We go way back.
I remember you
when you were that size.
You would run under
the Shetland there
and come out the far side
without bending your knees.
- Is that a fact?
- 'Tis indeed.
And who is this
grand-looking lackeen here?
My eldest, Francis,
and my son, Patrick.
Ah, the orphans.
God love 'em.
I bet you came to the fair
looking for a husband, huh?
I'm not looking for no husbands.
All I wants to know is
which road leads to Dublin.
To Dublin. What would
a slip of a girl like you
be doing in that place?
I'll go see Muhammad Ali
knock the head off Blue Al,
maybe pick up a trick or two.
Behave yourself, Francis.
Pajo. Pajo!
Go find me grandson there.
Tell him he's wanted.
Pajo!
Maybe pick up a trick or two,
she says.
You're some card.
Here, go get yourself
a drop of lemonade.
And no baiting heads,
no mind you.
Hey, look what I got.
Come on, let's go.
I think I have the right fellow
for that one.
He'll knock the sparks
out of her.
Come here to me, young man.
How would you like
to get your picture taken
with the greatest fighter
this world has ever seen?
Is that really him?
Sure, of course it is.
Don't you recognize the champion
of the world when you see him?
Have you a shilling for me,
and you can give him a box.
- You do it, Francis.
- Do what?
Miss, can my sister
give him a box?
If she has a shilling for me,
she can do what she likes.
Right. Up you pop.
Hiya.
That's not Muhammad Ali.
Right, look at me.
Look at the camera.
Ugh!
You're not Muhammad Ali!
You stop making
a f*cking show of yourself.
Sir, me gloves.
How much do you want for them?
Ten shillings to you,
since you're so handsome.
From now on, your brother does
the fighting, do you hear me?
¶¶
- Can we have money for chips?
- Whisht!
Ah, hard luck, man,
hard luck.
Go again.
Patrick's starving.
- Not that one, Daddy.
- Shh!
Ah, Jesus.
Have we no money left?
We do.
We've buckets of it.
Anyway, what's the use
in having money
if you don't know
how to spend it?
True for ya.
And when you get married,
your husband will give ya a
few bob if you behaves yourself.
He's here!
Pajo, you scoundrel.
You're like Houdini
escaping from me.
Me grandson,
Patrick Joseph Quinn II.
And this is Michael Joyce,
the man that as good as
m*rder*d a sergeant.
I didn't tell ya
a word of a lie.
You'll get a great army of sons
out of that one.
Stand up straight, Francis.
Let him have a good look at ya
Up.
Well? What's the verdict?
Yeah.
Yeah, what?
Will she do you or not?
She's all right.
She's better than
"all right", Pajo.
My Francis could have
the pick of any man.
Right enough. There's no one
saying any different.
But there's not many
young fellas going around
on the finest stallion
in the whole of Ireland.
And he has a field of fine mares
and foals as well, besides.
Well, what you think
yourself, Francis?
Do you likes
the look of him?
- His hair.
- What about it?
It's stupid.
She don't like your hair, Pajo.
Would he be acceptable
if he covered his head
in a little cap maybe?
Well, I don't like
your hair neither.
Looks like this fella's tail.
- Yeah, well, I don't care.
- I don't care more.
Would ya listen to them,
fighting like newlyweds already.
Has we a match?
Good on ya.
¶ I was 14 years
last Sunday, Mama ¶
¶ I am longing for to be wed ¶
¶ In the arms
of some young man ¶
¶ Who would comfort me
in the bed ¶
¶ In the arms
of some young man ¶
¶ Who'd roll with me
all night ¶
¶ I'm young and I'm airy ¶
¶ I'm cracked ¶
¶ I'm contrary ¶
¶ And buckled I'd long to be ¶
There!
That'll keep her in line
for ya.
Francis?
Patrick, you awake?
Shh! The children.
Shh. They're fine.
They're grand.
They're fast asleep.
Christ, you're saucy.
Ohh...
- Ah, Jesus.
- Uh, sorry.
What the hell is that for?
For the children.
- Go to hell, yeah?
- Huh?
Was your mother a redhead
like yourself?
What's it to you?
A woman with red hair came to me
in a dream last night.
She was say--
Patrick, hurry on.
Do you want to be left behind?
What was that one
saying to ya?
Was it about me?
She said Mammy's up in heaven
watching over us.
And she don't miss a thing.
Hup.
Hup, Buttercup.
Hup, hup!
¶ Warm winds settle ¶
¶ And all I see in this
crimson glow is you ¶
¶ Dawn lights crackle ¶
¶ Dusk does too ¶
¶ Soon comes battle ¶
¶ As we're longing for a truth
that is not true ¶
¶ Fond am I ¶
¶ Of the days I spent
watching butterflies ¶
¶ And dancing in the firelight ¶
¶ And though
there's a teardrop ¶
¶ That's fallen from my eye ¶
¶ The good old butterfly ¶
¶ Will teach me
to be satisfied ¶
¶ Because this ever-changing
love must pass us by ¶
You don't have to marry that
fella if you don't want to.
Only if you likes him.
Do you likes him?
And there's no rush neither.
Your mammy took her time
marrying me.
She kept we waiting,
so she did.
Why did you give him
me gloves?
Huh?
Me boxing gloves.
Ah, is that it?
Yeah.
There's a farm
about a mile back.
Go up and ask them
for a few spuds.
Can we not just
get some messages
when we're back on the road
again or something?
With what?
And get some tobacco too.
Tell 'em I'll mend any bit of
tin they have in the morning.
There's no mending
in the tin no more.
They all have plastic now.
And who d*ed and made you
so f*cking smart?
Come on.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa!
What do you want?
H-Have you got a few spuds
to spare?
Have you no parents
to feed you?
Come on, son.
Will ye come on, will ye?
You stay there.
There you are.
Still warm from nanny's titty.
Now, what else are ya after?
A few spuds?
Is that enough?
Can you spare a few of them?
You're not shy.
Sssss...
Wait. Have you got
a little something for me?
An old kiss maybe?
Oww!
Ugh!
Come on, Patrick, let's go.
Can I get in with you?
Daddy?
Will you sing me the song
that Mammy used to sing?
Huh?
The one about the fairies.
That one?
Yeah.
That's the one.
¶ Seoithin seotho ¶
¶ My child is my treasure ¶
¶ My jewel, my solace ¶
¶ My share of the world ¶
¶ Seoithin seotho ¶
¶ How sweet is my pleasure ¶
¶ My dark flag of sorrow ¶
¶ Forever unfurled ¶
Um...
¶ Child of my bosom ¶
¶ May sleep ever
and thrive with you ¶
¶ Come toddle with me ¶
¶ For the day
shall come maybe ¶
¶ Lonely you'll wander ¶
¶ For mile after mile ¶
¶ Seoithin seotho ¶
¶ How sweet is my treasure ¶
God bless ye and save ye.
What can I do for ye?
She likes my turnips.
What?
I had an army of men lined up
to pick turnips
tomorrow morning.
But your horse got there first.
I'm very sorry, mister.
She's that old.
She don't eat much usually,
only a pick of grass.
She must have saved
her appetite so,
for his turnips.
We don't wants no trouble now.
We're only pulled in
for the one night only.
A royal we, is it?
Or is there
an infestation of ye in it?
No, no infestation.
Only meself and me family.
Only see, there's a pair
on the rampage tonight,
robbing and assaulting
ordinary, decent people.
But you wouldn't know anything
about that, I suppose.
I wouldn't, mister.
That's disgraceful behavior.
Well, isn't it just.
Look, my wife's people
is settled in Limerick.
We was heading there tonight,
only the poor horse
got sore in the hooves.
They're in there, the pair!
I saw them!
f*ck off the lot of ya anyways.
It's a free county,
and we'll park where we
f*cking well want to.
Whisht!
Are they gone, Daddy?
They are.
You stay down.
Pack up your bits, quick.
Me pup!
Let's go.
Did they k*ll Lucky?
Get you a new pup, Patrick,
I promise.
Just get these on.
¶ Blianta fada ó shoin ¶
¶ In ó ghasúr ¶
¶ Bhí an saol an-tsimplí ¶
¶ Le spraoi is gan imní,
bhí sé deas ¶
Wait there, will ya?
There's a fella here
owes me.
Who is he?
Not someone you'd want to know.
Ow!
Will ya stop?
I'm trying to make you
look respectable.
Go on. Say a prayer to Mammy
so she'll look after us.
Why does she always
look so sad?
She's sad because
she got driven out.
Same as us.
Get in quick
before she cuts out on me.
Come on, come on.
How does you likes
our new wagon, huh?
Did your daddy
do right ye, huh?
Ya did, Daddy.
Look. There's even eggs.
See? There ya go.
What more could you want?
Come on.
f*ck ya!
What are you laughing at?
Look, Daddy.
One of the eggs
must've hatched.
f*cking great.
That's the answer
to all our troubles now.
A f*cking chicken.
Stop laughing, will ya?
What'd I f*cking tell you?
Stop laughing, Patrick.
Are you gonna sit there now
and let your sister
make a woman out of ya?
I didn't.
I was, I was--
Hit her.
Every time you don't hit
your sister, I'm gonna hit ya.
And I'm going to keep on
hitting you
until ya learns
to act like a man.
Just hit me, Patrick.
I don't mind.
Again.
Harder!
He has to learn.
Can't be hiding behind
his sister all his life.
Bobby Sheridan?
In Limerick, is it?
Yeah.
Your Uncle Bobby is in the
phonebook, isn't he, Francis?
'Cause of the weddings
and that?
Yeah, he does a bit of singing
at the weddings.
He's well known for it.
¶ We're the travelling people ¶
¶ Like the Picts
or Beaker Folk ¶
¶ The men in Whitehall
thinks we're parasites ¶
¶ But tinker is the word ¶
¶ With your gum
shellac, shalay, shala ¶
¶ Move us on, ya boyoes ¶
Now we'll see if we can
get ye back on the road.
I can do that.
Where'd you learn that trick?
Uncle Joe showed it to me.
One time when
the Legion of Mary was inside
saying rosary with Nana,
we was outside sucking petrol
out of their car.
Don't-- Don't be
making up stories, Francis.
Can I go with you in your car,
Uncle Bobby?
You can, of course.
Yeah, can I come too?
Sure. We're all going
the same road.
Now. Home sweet home.
You live in a house?
I do.
Don't hold that against me.
Thanks.
Lemonade's cold, Francis.
Feel it.
That's 'cause
it was in the fridge.
What's a fridge?
I'll show ya.
You done well
for yourself, Bobby.
Fair play to ya.
Ah, sure.
'Tis four walls.
No boys, now?
No men to carry the name?
No, no, not yet.
Maybe this one.
Ah, hard luck.
Hard luck, man.
A hot drop?
Hot drop is right.
You've nothing stronger, no?
Nothing with
a bit of lead in it?
Go down, Irene,
and get a few bottles of, uh...
stout, is it?
Sure, whatever
you're having yourself.
See that?
Haven't touched a drop in, uh...
- What is it now, Irene?
- Since your sister.
Oh, that was it.
I went a bit mad
after our Margaret passed.
But herself sorted me out.
Me family or me drink, she says.
Take your pick.
That a fact? You're not from
travelling people then?
Don't you know well
I'm not.
Irene's family was always very
good to our people.
There was always a welcome
at your father's door.
Power's Whiskey is my poison.
Take the wallet and get yourself
something too.
A little Babycham maybe.
You likes your Babycham?
I'll get that.
Don't insult me.
- Can I come with you, Mammy?
- You stay, Roseanne.
Go and show your cousin
where she'll be sleeping.
Oh, no, sure we've a hotel
sorted for the night.
What hotel?
The whatsis. The...
big swanky place down the...
Sure, didn't you see me
lay down the money for it?
Dinner, whatever we want,
It's all-in.
Don't mind your hotel.
I'll not have me own flesh
and blood go to strangers'.
Roseanne, bring your cousin
upstairs
and get her something
nice and clean to wear.
That's nice on you.
You can keep it if you like it.
I have loads.
Yeah, so do I.
Are those your cousins
out there?
Who?
The, uh...
young ones down the road.
No. They hate us.
They call us knackers.
That's 'cause you are one.
No, I'm not.
Yes, you are.
If I am one, so are you.
Twice over.
So?
I'm the greatest.
And I said it
before I knew I was.
That's what Muhammad Ali says.
Wait till you hear this.
¶ Well, I have a little woman ¶
- ¶ And a mother she is to be ¶
- Who's that?
That's your Mammy.
Finest voice in all of Ireland.
¶ She takes her basket
on her arm ¶
¶ And she mooches
the hills for me ¶
¶ And with your gum
shellac, shalay, shalo ¶
¶ Wallop it on, ya boyoes ¶
¶ Well, we've been married
twenty year ¶
¶ And nineteen children
we have got ¶
¶ Ah, sure when one
is hardly walking ¶
¶ The other is-- ¶
Your mammy and me used
to sing that at all the fairs
when we was your age,
younger even.
She'd do most of the singing.
I'd just rattle--
No offense, Bobby.
But no matter what shades
of gold ya paint it,
a cage is still
a f*cking cage, isn't it?
Now, what make of birdy is that?
Tit, is it?
Stick on some more tea, Irene.
We could all do
with a fresh drop.
Put it on yourself.
f*ck me.
I've heard it all now.
"Put it on yourself,"
she said.
Top that you, good woman.
He's had enough.
What did you say?
Don't you dare talk
to your father like that.
No, see, she gets the bad blood
from yer side, so she does.
- What?
- No matter.
She'll be getting
married soon.
Her husband will
b*at it out of her.
If he hits me,
I'll hit him back harder.
I will.
I'll knock his fecking--
Hello?
Yeah, this is him
you're talking to.
Who?
Oh.
No, I have not seen the man.
No, not for ten years or more.
Will do, Sergeant.
What did that bastard want?
He said if you're not back
by tomorrow,
there'll be a warrant
for your arrest.
How does he even know
they're here?
Michael Joyce
goes where he wants to go.
And if and when
I decide to go back,
I'll put manners on him.
I'll put manners
on that son of his too.
Shut up, you.
Put manners on yourself.
Patrick, come here to me, son.
Come on, come here!
Come on!
Now tell that bastard
you'll knock
seven shades of shite
out of his jumped-up
monkey of a son.
Open up your beak.
Tell him!
There's no one there.
I'll fight the son, Daddy.
I'm strong enough anyways.
When are you gonna
f*cking learn, huh?
When?
Easy now.
Everybody calm down now.
This will all look different
in the morning.
Jesus!
Run next door, Roseanne!
Tell them to call the guards.
Go and do as you're told,
Roseanne!
I'm sorry. I am.
I didn't mean--
Get out of my house!
Get out, the lot of ye!
Savages!
Sweet suffering Jesus,
you put the heart across me.
Where's Francis?
Michael, where is
the misfortunate lackeen?
Son!
Son!
Talk to me, son.
Mammy!
Mammy!
Mammy!
Get up!
Get up outta that grave!
God forgive me
for rearing a son
that would abandon
his own flesh and blood!
What do you see?
What is it, Mammy?
Nothing.
I see nothing anymore.
Mister?
What's wrong with you,
creature?
Are you lost or something?
There it is.
That's where she's sore.
I know, darling, I know.
Pajo!
She's off to Dublin, she says.
To see himself.
You won't find Muhammad Ali
in Dublin, child.
But maybe this fellow
could help you out.
Ignore the bastard.
- What did I just tell you?
- I'll brain the bastard.
- Now, Michael--
- Joe, I swear to God.
I'll do jail twice over
to wipe that grin off his puss.
Well, more fool you, Michael.
'Cause if you get
locked up this time,
you're coming out in a box.
Patrick!
Get off of me!
f*ck off.
Go on, f*ck off for yourself.
f*ck off you too.
Patrick! Are you ready to be
a man for your daddy?
Christ, you'll have
no children left.
What'd you say?
Your Patrick against
that sergeant's son?
It's not a fair match.
He's twice the size of him!
Or is it you want to get
the whole lot of them m*rder*d?
Who's this boy's father,
me or you?
I looked after him
when you weren't around.
He was one of me own.
And a good job you did too.
He's as much of a coward
as you are.
Now, Patrick,
you listen to me.
It doesn't matter how many times
you get knocked down.
It's how many times you get
back up is what counts, right?
That's a proper tinker punch,
isn't it?
Get up!
Stay down, son.
There's no shame in losing
an unfair fight.
Stay down!
Get up.
If he don't k*ll ya, I will.
Let your hands go.
Use your flaming fists!
Come on away with me, Patrick.
We'll fix you up.
Let me fight! Stop!
Let me finish it, Daddy!
Go on home to Granny.
Go on! Get out of here!
Do you want to end up
like your mother before you?
You can live all your life
on your knees if you want.
But I can't.
And I won't.
Michael, let her fight.
Let her do
what she was born to do.
Oi!
Do you have gloves
for that one?
Someone get gloves for my son
so he doesn't dirty
his f*cking hands.
For the love of Jesus!
What happened to him?
Our Francis is back.
There's gonna be blue m*rder.
One-two.
One-two, three-four.
Come on!
Come on, Eamonn!
Go on there!
Come on, Francis.
Fight!
Come on!
Come on, Eamonn!
Good girl, Francis!
Keep the hands up, Francis!
Come on!
Good girl, Francis!
Good girl!
Come on,
you're better than this!
He's getting b*at by a girl,
are ya!
He's getting b*at
by a little girl.
Come on, Francis!
Get in there, will ya?
- Ah, Jesus! Get up!
- Think Ali! One-two!
Hands up.
Come on, Francis!
- Good girl, Francis!
- Get up!
Come on, Francis!
Francis!
- That's it!
- Get up, Francis!
Get off her!
Get off her, ya savage!
Come away, loveen.
This isn't your fight.
Big Mammy's right, Francis.
Turn the other cheek.
The likes of him
isn't worth it.
How many cheeks
does a person have to turn?
Would you look at her?
Jesus, her mammy in heaven
protect ya.
Take her away, son,
before it's too late.
Don't! She'll hurt worse
if she don't fight.
Am I right?
Is this your idea
of law and order,
setting a child against a child?
Well, you're a disgrace!
The lot of ye!
You're worse than animals!
Was it not enough for ye that
ye k*lled this child's mother?
Yeah, well, the only good
knacker is a dead knacker!
Dead!
- Go on, Francis!
- Go, Francis.
Again!
- Come on!
- Get up, I said!
Francis.
You're Mammy's little champion,
aren't ya?
One-two, one-two.
Rise, Francis.
Keep your head up.
Rise.
One-two. One-two!
You don't let anybody
knock you down.
Our own little Muhammad Ali
is the new heavyweight
champion of the world!
Yay!
Who is the greatest?
Francis, who is the greatest?
Look at me, Mammy!
I'm the greatest!
Enough, Francis.
Let that be an end to it.
One, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten!
Yeah! Well done!
More power to ya, Francis!
She nailed him in fairness!
Yes, she did.
She put manners on him.
Fair dues to ya.
Muhammad Ali himself
wouldn't best you.
Ain't that right, son?
Your lackeen done us proud!
- Stay away from me!
- Come away, loveen.
Your daddy doesn't know
what's good for him anymore.
Get away from me, I said!
I won! I showed him
I was the greatest!
And you've said it before.
Remember?
Mammy said it too.
Say it.
Will you say it?!
You did your mammy proud.
f*cking, f*cking inbreds.
You're the greatest daughter!
You're the f*cking greatest!
Whoo!
Here, get that into you.
Away with ye!
Go on! Get outta there.
Let the champion rest.
You be learning
your books now, Patrick?
Yes.
Hello, Francis.
- Hiya.
- Got a puppy.
Uncle Tommy got him for me.
- Hey.
- Hiya, puppy.
Show us your muscles.
That's the grandest muscle
in all of Ireland.
Behave yourselves, ye.
Good job you never made it
to Dublin, Francis.
Poor Muhammad Ali would've been
going back to America
on a stretcher!
¶¶
¶¶
¶ Blame me mammy
for me temper ¶
¶ 'Twas she that had it first ¶
¶ And her mammy's mam
before her ¶
¶ By all accounts was cursed ¶
¶ I'm descended
from red devils ¶
¶ Scoundrels, demon Scots ¶
¶ Please, God,
when I have me daughter ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶ She'll be
twice as bad and worse ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶ Please, God,
when I have me daughter ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶¶
¶ I never learned
to hold me tongue ¶
¶ I chokes on humble pie ¶
¶ I never could behave myself ¶
¶ No nice little girl am I ¶
¶ Me nature 'tis obstreperous ¶
¶ Being bowed, it isn't fate ¶
¶ How could
the likes of me be good ¶
¶ When I'm better
at being great ¶
¶ Oh, I'm better at
being great ¶
¶ Oh, I'm better
at being great ¶
¶ How could
the likes of me be good ¶
¶ When I'm better
at being great ¶
¶¶
¶ I am me mammy's daughter ¶
¶ I has me granny's blood ¶
¶ Me great-great-granny
made the world ¶
¶ And not by being good ¶
¶ I'm descended
from red devils ¶
¶ Scoundrels, demon Scots ¶
¶ Please, God,
when I have me daughter ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶ She'll be
twice as bad and worse ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶ Please, God,
when I have me daughter ¶
¶ She'll be twice as bad
and worse ¶
¶ What will we do
when we have no money ¶
¶ All true lovers,
what will we do then ¶
¶ Only hawk through the town ¶
¶ For a hungry crown ¶
¶ And we'll yodel it
over again ¶
¶ What will I do
if I'd marry a tinker ¶
¶ All true lovers,
what will we do then ¶
¶ Only sell a tin can ¶
¶ And walk on with me man ¶
¶ And we'll yodel it
over again ¶
¶ What will we do
if we'd marry a soldier ¶
¶ All true lovers,
what will we do then ¶
¶ Only handle his g*n ¶
¶ And we'd fight for the fun ¶
¶ And we'll yodel it
over again ¶
Float Like a Butterfly (2018)
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