A Prayer for Mad Sweeney

American Gods 1×7

& Mr. Ibis: Irish Red Ale... Brewed it just like the Franciscan monks in Kilkenny in 1231... The well water was poison. This beer saved lives.

& Mr. Ibis: ’It is fine fiction that America was founded by pilgrims seeking freedom to believe as they wished, that they came to the Americas, spread and bred and filled the empty land. In truth, the American colonies were as much a dumping ground as an escape, a forgetting place—’

& Mr. Ibis: ’In the days when you could be hanged in a London prison for the theft of 12 pennies, the Americas became a symbol of clemency. Transportation, it was called. For five years, for 10 years, for life, you were sold to a captain and would ride his ship crowded tight as a slaver’s. Off the ship you were sold as an indentured servant to the one who would take the cost of your skin out in your labor. But at least you were not waiting to hang in an English prison. And when your years of indenture were complete, you were free to make the best of your new world. Of the New World.

& Essie MacGowan: We leave a meal for the fair folk if we want their blessings. We don’t skimp, neither. The cream from the milk, the softest crumb you’ve got at hand. For it’s favor on one side of the coin, and wrath on the other. Ballybogs, no doubt, they can be reasoned with. Leprechauns, oh, they’re a different story altogether. Help you with your troubles one day, and bite your eyes out the next!

& Essie MacGowan: .... So you see, the faerie folk may be small, don’t let that fool ya. They can make real trouble unminded.

& Mr. Ibis: ’Intelligence has never been uncommon among women. And beauty is had by all of 17.’

& Mr. Ibis: ’...one does not ask favors of a leprechaun without a kindness of gold.’

& Mr. Ibis: ’Essie was sentenced to seven years transportation...’

& Laura: «...Sadly, both Derek and the calf were killed by a lightning strike a year to the day after its birth.»
    Mad Sweeney: What you get for putting a god in a petting zoo.

& Laura: So do you love God? Or are you in love with God?

---

& Mad Sweeney: Christ. Can a man get a moment alone with his prick?

& Mad Sweeney: Trust me, you don’t want this one hitting you.

& Mr. Ibis: ’Though the work was not honest, she lived by her own labors and owed thanks to no man.’

& Mr. Ibis: ’Unfortunately, the more abundant the blessings, the more we forget to pray.’

& Mad Sweeney: To hell with them and their gallows. Give them a good, long piss as you dangle. Make a mess for them to mop after. So long as you don’t go easy.

& Mad Sweeney: I was a king, once. I was. Then they made me a bird. Then Mother Church came along and turned us all into saints, and trolls, and faeries. General Mills did the rest.

& Mad Sweeney: I owe a battle.
    Laura: You’re following Wednesday so that you can fight in his war and die, and for that, you run his errands?
    Mad Sweeney: I done worse than that...

& Laura: Dying worked for me. Everyone should try it at least once.

& Gran Essie: Of course, you must never fall asleep by a stream. No, for the alp-luachra might crawl into your mouth and make his home in your belly. For that joint-eater will take the good out of your supper so no matter how much you eat, after, you’ll never be full up, never. Never. Never. Never!

& Mad Sweeney: Créd as co tarlaid an cac-sa dam? Nach lór rofhulangas? Is lór chena, níam olc! Níam!

& Essie: If you are who I think you are, I have no quarrel with you.
    Mad Sweeney: Nor I with you. Although it was you that brought me here, you and a few others like you. Into this land with no time for magic, no place for faeries and such folk.

& Essie: I... you have done me many a good turn.
    Mad Sweeney: Good and ill. We’re like the wind, we blows both ways.
    Essie: Aye.

& Mad Sweeney: Will you take my hand, Essie MacGowan?

--
On the IMDb
+ Soundtracks!