Margaret: When I was a girl in Ireland, a raggedy man would come around every spring with a little Bantam rooster. He’d trained it to peck out “The Mountains of Mourne” on a toy piano hung off his chest.
Lucy: So?
Margaret: Well… the first year he came, we all of us, the girls in that place, we thought it magical. The second year, we laughed behind our hands at the odd man and his tatters, and the third year we didn’t even go, because “The Mountains of Mourne” was all that little rooster could ever do.