feefty-two

Updated: May 29, 2025

He was no committeeman but simply a member of the throng. "Yo' sand a spickair to my dock," he said. "Pier feefty-two East Reever. I t'ink he make de boys come out." He sat down breathing heavily. "You don't need any speaker, go yourself," an Irishman called from across the hall. "I no spick," said the Pole emphatically. "You're spicking now, ain't you?"

Ernest Poole - The Harbor