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"Wan," says th' officer. "Put me down," says Dorgan, "f'r th' tenth call," he says. This, gintlemen iv th' foorth precin't, he says, 'is Thomas Francis Dorgan, a man who, if ilicted, he says, 'victhry'll perch, he says, 'upon our banners, he says; 'an', he says, 'th' naytional honor will be maintained, he says, 'in th' county boord, he says.
"I learned Schwartzmeister th' Shan-van-Voght before we was through; an' I've got th' German naytional chune be heart, 'Ich vice nit wauss allus bay doitan'. What'll ye have to drink, Jawn?" And, as Mr. McKenna went out, he heard his friend muttering: "Freed be th' Dutch! Freed be the Dutch! An' we niver give thim so much as a dillygate."
Dooley, "an immense concoorse iv forty iv thim gathered in London an' marched up to th' House iv Commons, or naytional dormytory, where a loud an' almost universal snore proclaimed that a debate was ragin' over th' bill to allow English gintlemen to marry their deceased wife's sisters befure th' autopsy.
Be this time th' sojers had heerd of the victhry, an' they gathered on th' shore, singin' th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol' town to-night, me babby. Th' gloryous ol' chune, to which Washington an' Grant an' Lincoln marched, was took up be th' sailors on th' ships, an' Admiral Cervera r-run wan iv his boats ashore, an' jumped into th' sea.
'I'd hate to insure again burglars th' naytional honor that was guarded be that ol' gazabo, says I, indicatin' Merceer with th' toe iv me boot. "'That's wan point. They's another, mong colonel. Ye're all afraid. That's th' truth iv th' matther. Ye're like a lot iv ol' women that thinks ivry time th' shutter creaks burglars is goin' to break into th' house.
"'Pris'ner, said th' prisident iv th' coort, 'th' eyes iv Fr-rance is upon us, th' honor iv th' nation is at stake. Th' naytional definces, th' integrity iv that ar-rmy upon which Fr-rance must depind in time iv peace, th' virtue iv public life, an' th' receipts iv th' exposition is involved. Incidentally, ye ar-re bein' thried. But why dhrag in matthers iv no importance?
'Th' Irish rig'mints, he says, 'th' Kerry Rifles, th' Land Leaguers' Own, an' th' Dublin Pets, commanded be th' Pop'lar Irish sojer Gin'ral Sir Ponsonby Tompkins wint into battle singin' their well-known naytional anthem: "Mrs. Innery Awkins is a fust-class name!" Th' Boers retreated, he says, 'pursued be th' Davitt Terrors who cut their way through th' fugitives with awful slaughter, he says.
'Whin th' Prisidint, he says, 'called th' nation to ar-rms, he says, 'an' Congress voted fifty million good bucks f'r th' naytional definse, he says, 'Thomas Francis Dorgan, he says, 'in that minyit iv naytional pearl, says he, 'left his good job in the pipe-yard, he says, 'an' wint down to th' raycruitin' office, an' says, "How manny calls f'r volunteers is out?" he says.
Who puts out ye'er fire f'r ye, who supports th' Naytional Governmint be payin' most iv th' intarnal rivnoo jooties, who maintains th' schools ye sind ye'er ignorant little childher to, be payin' th' saloon licenses, who does th' fightin' f'r ye in th' wars but th' bachelors? Th' marrid men start all th' wars with loose talk whin they're on a spree.
Hennessy. "Patrick's Day?" said Mr. Dooley. "Patrick's Day? It seems to me I've heard th' name befure. Oh, ye mane th' day th' low Irish that hasn't anny votes cillybrates th' birth iv their naytional saint, who was a Fr-rinchman." "Ye know what I mane," said Mr. Hennessy, with rising wrath. "Don't ye get gay with me now." "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I may cillybrate it an' I may not.
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