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Peter's Brother, What hast thou in one hand? What hast i'th' to'ther? Heaven Gate Keys. We do not think that the poets of the anti-shaving movement have as yet succeeded in producing anything worthy to be set off against a series of spirited stanzas under the heading of "The Razor, a Poem," which we commend to the immediate and careful attention of the "Razor-strop Man."
Grad to see you, Mike hope we live together like good friend, down yonder, up here, over dere." "Ye do, do ye! Divil burn me, now, if I want any sich company. Ould Nick's yer name, is it?" "Old Nick young Nick saucy Nick; all one, all to'ther. Make no odd what you call; I come." "Och, yer a handy one! Divil trust ye, but ye'll come when you arn't wanted, or yer not of yer father's own family.
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