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Updated: June 3, 2025
Nowadays an arnychist dhrops into a lunch-room at th' railroad depot an' sees a man settin' on a stool atin' a quarther section iv a gooseb'ry pie an' dhrinkin' a glass iv buttermilk. 'D'ye know who that is? says th' lunch-counter lady. 'I do not, says th' arnychist, 'but be th' look iv him he ain't much. 'That's th' king, says th' lady. 'Th' king, is it, says th' arnychist.
They have guns that anny boy or girl who knows th' typewriter can wurruk, an' they have other guns on th' music box plan, that ye wind up an' go away an' lave, an' they annoy anny wan that comes along. They have guns that bounces up out iv a hole in th' groun', fires a millyon shells a minyit an' dhrops back f'r another load.
Th' first thing I know a shell loaded with dynnymite dhrops into th' lap iv some frind iv mine in San Francisco; a party iv Jap'nese land in Boston an' scalp th' wigs off th' descindants iv John Hancock an' Sam Adams; an' Tiddy Rosenfelt is discovered undher a bed with a small language book thryin' to larn to say 'Spare me' in th' Jap'nese tongue.
Ye an' I ar-re settin' here together an' Clancy dhrops in. Clancy's wife's away an' he's out f'r a good time an' he comes to me f'r it. A bachelor's f'r th' enjymint of his marrid frinds' vacations. Whin Clancy's wife's at home an' I go to see him he r-runs th' pail out in a valise, an' we take our criminal dhrink in th' woodshed.
An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry they've gone to Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board. "Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a flour bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in. 'Well, boys, says he, 'how goes th' battle? he says. 'Gloryous, says th' Sthrateejy Board.
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