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Sleep, ma baby, de angels want you sho! De angels want you, guess I know, But mammy hol' you, hol' you tight jes' so. "Sleep, ma baby, close youah lil fingahs, Meah, Loo-la, Loo-la, tight about ma fingahs heah, De dawk come close, but baby don' you nebbeh feah, Youah mammy'll hol' you, hol' you till de mawn appeah.
Reckon he's mad anyhow an' can't speak peac'ble to nobody. Well, I likes him a heap betteh in dat view ob de case an' he kin glower at me all he please 'long as he ain't 'sertin' young Missy case she is po'. Couldn't stan' dat no how. He's willin' an' she ain't, an' dat wat she mean by sayin' 'No, Owen Clancy, nebbeh. She won't lis'n to him kase he doan hate de Norf like pizen.
"You nebbeh get old, Missee Alice," said the sick man. "Twenty yea' I know you always like li'l gi'l." "Nonsense, Po!" cried Alice. Nevertheless she was pleased. "Will you and Hang Far stay with me?" "I t'ink so, Missee," Po replied. "By 'n' by we take one li'l tlip fo' honeymoon. But plitty soon come back." The labor movement grew and Dennis with it both in self-importance and in popularity.
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