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Updated: June 28, 2025
Dooley, "they'll know a thing or two about good manners an' Christyan idees." "They need thim," said Mr. Hennessy. "They do so," said Mr. Dooley. "An' they'll get thim. By an' by th' allied foorces will proceed to Peking. It may not be in ye'er life time or in mine, or in th' life time iv th' ministhers, Hinnissy. They ar-re in no hurry.
The Irishman grinned in the dim light, "Yis, sor, they're in their bunks wishin' to die. They've niver been in a blow before. It's say-sick they ar-re." Both men were holding to the stanchion. "Seasick!" ejaculated Madden. "How about Heck Mulcher and Ben Galton?" he recalled the names on the list.
If th' naygurs down South iver got together an' flew at their masters ye'd hear no more coon songs f'r awhile. It's our conceit makes us supeeryor. Take it out iv us an' we ar-re about th' same as th' rest." "I wondher what we'd do if all thim infeeryor races shud come at us together?" said Mr. Hennessy. "They're enough iv thim to swamp us." "Well," said Mr.
So th' next ye hear th' sojers ar-re chasin' th' coorts out iv th' state, th' legislature is meetin' in Duluth, Pinsacola, an' Bangor, Maine, an' a comity iv citizens consistin' iv some iv the best gun fighters iv th' state ar-re meetin' to decide how th' conthroversay can be decided without loss iv blood or jobs.
If it wasn't f'r me, th' poor thing'd have closed down the wurruks, an' gone to th' far-rm long ago. An' wan day, whin he's takin' th' air, p'raps, along comes an Eyetalyan, an' says he, 'Ar-re ye a king? 'That's my name, says his majesty. 'Betther dead, says th' Eyetalyan; an' they'se a scramble, an' another king goes over th' long r-road. "I don't know much about arnychists.
'I don't know how th' inhabitants iv th' place ye refer to is fixed, he says, 'f'r newspapers, he says, 'an' I niver heerd iv annybody fr'm Kansas home-stakin' there, he says, 'but if ye'll attind to th' circulation iv thim parts, he says, 'I'll see that th' paper is properly placed in th' hands iv th' vile an' wicked iv this earth, where, he says, 'th' returns ar-re more quick, he says."
"What ar-re ye talkin' about?" cried Mr. Hennessy, in deep disgust. "All this time ye've been standin' behind this bar ladlin' out disturbance to th' Sixth Wa-ard, an' ye haven't been as far east as Mitchigan Avnoo in twinty years. What have ye had to do with all these things?" "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I had as much to do with thim as th' queen."
Whin this deadly missile flies through th' air, th' threes ar-re withered an' th' little bur-rds falls dead fr'm th' sky, fishes is kilt in th' rivers, an' th' tillyphone wires won't wurruk. Th' keen eyed British gunners an' corryspondints watches it in its hellish course an' tur-rn their faces as it falls into th' Boer trench.
'What ar-re ye doin' here? says th' Englishman. 'Robbin' th' naygurs, says th' Fr-rinchman, bein' thruthful as well as polite. 'Wicked man, says th' Englishman. 'What ar-re ye doin' here? says the Fr-rinchman. 'Improvin' the morals iv th' inhabitants, says th' Englishman. 'Is it not so, Rastus? he says. 'It is, says wan iv th' kings. 'I'm a poorer but a betther man since ye came, he says.
'It does no good in these degin'rate days to prove that th' best that can come to a man f'r behavin' himsilf is to be cooked in a pot or di-gisted be a line, he says. 'Ye're wrong, says I. 'Beggin' ye'er riv'rince's pardon, ye're wrong, I says. 'What ar-re ye goin' to do with thim young wans? Ye're goin' to make thim near-sighted an' round-shouldered, I says.
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