The ribs of Caesar and Pyrrhus make the loom On which the ghost story is woven into a tapestry On which stands the image of a teacher. He is riddled with puzzles but cannot finish the one in front of him. When he tries to fit the jigsaw piece, it shrieks like a dying woman A pa**ing fox nabs the piece and sprints, The teacher makes to shout after the fox, but he cannot For he is the fox, and his bitty teeth are fixed on the wailing puzzle piece Bury it, bury it, he can't Are you with me Stephen? Mr. Deasy said. Stephen wakes but not from history and the nightmare continues. There is talk of the English, of Ireland and the Jews but none of Odysseus. Mr. Dizzy Nestor, no longer wise, cannot help Telemachus From the window, among the hockey players, God shouts for a pa** They say that Ireland never let in the Jews, but a lone figure, silhouetted in the horizon, disagrees. Trapped on Calypsos' island, the figure is ready to escape. Telemachus must wait. Motherless, he came, fatherless, he went.