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Shure, the blessed Virgin, or the Almighty himself, couldn't escape the tongue of Augustus Burlingame not even you." The Young Doctor burst out laughing. "'The Blessed Mary, or the Almighty himself not even you! Well, Patsy, you're a wonder," he said. "Aw, you're not goin' to get off by scoffin' at me," remarked Patsy. "Shure, what did Augustus Burlingame say of you? well now, what did he say?"
Yes, my Lord; De monahs sobbin' an' er weepin', Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll. "Oh, scoff, you scoffers, scoff! Yes, my Lord; Dem sinners wat's er scoffin' Can't hyear sweet Jordan roll." And as the flood of melody poured through the house, the groups on the outside came in to join the singing.
Him there leerin' and scoffin'! One bang at his nose was worth forty dollars to me that minute! How did you stand it, Bill?" "How did I stand it?" cried the cowboy in a quivering voice. "How did I stand it? Oh!" The old man burst into sudden brogue. "I'd loike to take that Swade," he wailed, "and hould 'im down on a shtone flure and bate 'im to a jelly wid a shtick!"
I don't catch the drift of your meaning." "Ye don't? Why, that's queer, after what He's done fer my Jimmy. Who else sent them scouts out there to bring my boy in but Him? And to think that all of these years I've been scoffin' at Him and religion, and then fer Him to do so much fer me and my Jimmy!"
Shure, the blessed Virgin, or the Almighty himself, couldn't escape the tongue of Augustus Burlingame not even you." The Young Doctor burst out laughing. "'The Blessed Mary, or the Almighty himself not even you! Well, Patsy, you're a wonder," he said. "Aw, you're not goin' to get off by scoffin' at me," remarked Patsy. "Shure, what did Augustus Burlingame say of you? well now, what did he say?"
De farmer gits ready w'en de lan's all plowed For ter sow dem seeds in de mornin' De sperrit may be puny en de flesh may be proud, But you better cut loose fum de scoffin' crowd, En jine dose Christuns w'at's a cryin' out loud Fer de Lord fer ter come in de mornin'! Shout loud en shout long, Let de eckoes ans'er strong, W'en de sun rises up in de mornin'! Oh, you allers will be wrong Twel you choose ter belong Ter de Marster w'at's a comin' in de mornin'!
Your man was told 't was a blessed cross, an' he flouted the lot of us an' left it wheer 't was. 'T is a challenge, if you come to think of it, a scoffin' of the A'mighty to the very face of Un. I wouldn't stand it myself if I was Him." "Will, do 'e hear Mr. Blee?" asked Phoebe. "I hear un. 'T is tu late now, even if what he said was true, which it ban't."
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