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Updated: June 27, 2025
'I can't, mother, I'm ill. 'Garn! said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then looking at her: 'Swop me bob, wot's up with yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer forehead it is 'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, gal? 'I dunno, said Liza. 'I've been thet bad all night, I thought I was goin' ter die. 'I know wot it is, said Mrs.
"Hi, w'ere's yer ticket?" that fierce female cried, and M'riar showed it to her, weakly, scarcely caring whether it entitled her to passage or condemned her to expulsion from the ship by a sharp toss overside. "Garn in there," said the stewardess, studying the ticket and its bearer's symptoms simultaneously. "S'y, yer goin' ter be a nice sweet passenger to 'ave hon board, now 'yn't yer?"
"A hundred guineas," replied the shopman, indifferently. "Garn! Yer kiddin'?" cried Jonah, astounded. The salesman looked in surprise from Jonah to Clara. She coloured slightly. Jonah saw that she was annoyed. The salesman led them to another instrument, and, with less deference in his tone, remarked that this was the firm's special cheap line at fifty guineas.
"I vill go to the advertisers and speak burning words to them. I vill " "Garn! They'd kick you out!" croaked Ebenezer. "They'll only listen to an Englishman." His coarse-featured face glistened with spite. "My Ebenezer has a good appearance," said old Sugarman, "and his English is fine, and dat is half de battle."
"Garn, you farthin' face! Shet your neck." "All very fine, Mister Blackey, but how would you like a smack in the bloomin' eye? I done the best as I knew for you, and there ain't a bloke round as has a judy wot'll go where I goes and hand over the wongur." "Never mind, I was waxy when I done it. Maybe we'll 'ave some luck to morrow'."
"What news from the Park?" I said. "Garn! 'oo yer getting at?" said my cousin's man. "Aint yer just been there?" Wot's it all abart?" "Haven't you heard of the Wenuses?" said I. "The women from Wenus?" "Quite enough," said my cousin's man, and laughed. I felt foolish and angry. "You'll hear more yet," I said, and went on my way.
"Church bells, Nobby!" cried a hundred voices. "Garn, do the church bells!" So he did the church bells, as the wind brings the sound across the valley on a summer evening at home, wringing his shipmates' sentimental heartstrings to the limit of their enjoyment. "Strewth!" ejaculated a bearded member of the audience when the turn was over, relighting his pipe with a hand that shook.
"Hi, hi, hi," bawled the omnibus-drivers, threading a dangerous way. A drunken American sailor wandered about tearfully inquiring, "What's he want anyhow?" A leathery-faced rag-dealer upon a little pony-drawn cart soared up over the tumult by virtue of his voice. "Garn 'ome, you Brasted Giant!" he brawled, "Garn 'Ome! You Brasted Great Dangerous Thing!
This party had to go over the duck walk and was under fire both going and coming. One of the corporals who had been out on rations two nights in succession began to "grouse." I "groused" too, like a good fellow, but had to go. "Garn," says Wellsie. "Wot's the diff if yer gets it 'ere or there. If ye clicks, I'll draw yer fags from Blighty and say a prayer for yer soul. On yer way."
Sir Timothy, straight as a dart, without overcoat or any covering to his thin evening clothes, looked like a stripling in front of him. "I'm whippin' 'er, if yer want to know," was the carter's reply. "I've got to get up the 'ill, 'aven't I? Garn and mind yer own business!" "This is my business," Sir Timothy declared, laying his hand upon the neck of the horse.
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