From: Dr. R. E. Sullivan <firstname.lastname@example.org>
For All Hands: Not sure, but have always suspected that this originated after WW I. Since there PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) wasnât âinventedâ until the advent of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manualâ¦.,II, 1980, and placed among the âAnxiety Disorders,â the symptoms of âMissus Moriarityâ Boyâ didnât even have a proper diagnostic name. Thus science continues to lag behind reality. Should you have any comments in regard the below, please reply and Iâll file them with my copy of the document. Semper Fidelis, Sully (Web Site: http://www.sullyusmc.com>
Missus Moriarity's Boy
Missis Moriarity called last week, and she says to me,
"Sure the heart of me's broken entirely now - it's the fortunate woman you be:
You've got your Dinnis to cheer you up at home, but me Patsy boy where is he?
Layin' alone , cold as stone, kilt in the weariful whar.
Oh, I'm seein' him now as I looked on him last, wid his hair all curly and bright,
And the wonderful, tenderful heart he had, and his eyes as he wint away,
Shinin' down on me from the pride of his proper height:
Sure I'll remember me boy like that if I live to me dyin' day."
And just as she spoke them very same words me Dinnis came in at the door,
Come in from McGognigle's ould shebeen [tavern], came in from drinkin' his pay:
And Missis Moriarty looked at him, and she didn't say any more,
But she wrapped her head in her ould black shawl, and quietly wint away
And what was I thinkin', I ask ye now, as I put me Dinnis to bed?
Wid him ravin' and cursin' one half of the night, as cold by his side I sat;
Was I thinkin' the poor ould woman she was wid her Patsy slaughtered and dead ?
Was I weepin' for Missis Moriarty? I'm not so sure about that.
Missis Moriarty goes about wid a shinnin' look on her face;
Wid her gray hair under her ould shawl, and the eyes of the mother - mild;
Some say's a little bit off her head; but annyway it's the case.
Her timper's so swate [sweet] that you nivver would tell she'd be losin' her only child.
And I think, as I wait up ivery night for me Dinnis to come home blind,
And I'm hearin' his stumblin' foot on the stair along about half - past three;
Sure there's many a way of breakin' a heart, and I haven't made up me mind -
Would I be Missis Moriarty, or me?
R.W. "Dick" Gaines
GnySgt USMC (Ret.)
1952 (Plt #437)--'72
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