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Updated: June 13, 2025
"The poethry, ye see, was put to it by one of my ancesthors, he was a great inventhor in times past, and made beautiful songs, and ye'd never guess what it's all about." "Love, mayhap?" quoth Monsoon. "Sorra taste of kissing from beginning to end." "A drinking song?" said I. "Whiskey is never mentioned." "Fighting is the only other national pastime. It must be in praise of sudden death?"
Pete rammed his thumb into his pipe, and stuffed it, still smoking, into his waistcoat pocket. "Chut!" he said huskily. "The talk a man'll be putting out when he's going away foreign! All for poethry then, or something of that spacious. H'm! h'm!" clearing his throat, "must be giving up the pipe, though. Not much worth for the voice at all." Philip could not speak.
And put it "in poethry" he did to the increased hilarity of the crowd. The month of February brought an interruption to the smooth and pleasant course of The Dreamer's life.
And then a rhyme when it has puzzled you all day, the pleasure you have in nabbing it at last!" "Oh, it's po'thry you're spakin' about," said Larry. "To be sure," said Goggins; "do you think I'd throw away my time on prose? You're burning that bacon, Tim," said he to his sub. "Poethry, agen the world!" continued he to Larry, "the Castilian sthraime for me!
The answer was a sounding whack which made him wriggle. "You let me alone, you big coward. I ain't doin' nothin' to you. You better let me alone. Sam! S-A-M! S-A-A-A-M!!!" as the stick came down again and again. "Don't bother me," shouted Sam outside. "I'm writin' poethry terrible partic'lar job, poethry. He only means it in kindness, anyhow." Guy was screaming now and weeping copiously.
"But Yorkey," he continued "wud not let me lie down. . . . God! how that man did put his fishts an' mucklucks tu me an' pushed an' shtaggered wid me' afther th' dogs, beggin' an' cursin' an' prayin' an' callin' me names that ud fairly make th' dead relations av a man rise up out av their graves. . . . Light-headed he got towards th' ind av th' thrail, poor chap! shoutin' dhrill-ordhers an' Injia naygur talk, an' singin' great songs an' chips av poethry th' half av which I misremimber excipt thim thim wurrds he said this night.
"Here is one tuk from the Great Head War Chief of the Sangers, and here is one from the Head Chief of the Boilers, and another tuk in battle. Six scalps from six famous warriors. This yere is the record for the whole Tribe, an' Little Beaver done it; besides which, he draws pictures, writes poethry and cooks purty good, an' I say Little Beaver is the one for Chief!
Why, sir, barrin a word dhropped here and there, you'd think it was in an Orange Lodge you were, if you happened to step in on one of those societies while engaged in celebrating, as they call it, the anniversary of their pathron Saint; for it's nothin you'd hear but 'Rule Britannia, 'The Red, White and Blue, and kindhered sintiments, and if a chap did happen to give 'The harp that wanst, why, its the sweet, soft air they'd be admirin, and the poethry of Tom Moore, rather than the low wail for vingeance that was smothered in the heart of the song itself.
Awther Pindinnis, a young gentleman of property in the neighbourhood, a person of refoined moind, and enviable manners, a sincare lover of poethry, and a man possest of a feeling and affectionate heart." "It is very fine weather," Miss Fotheringay said, in an Irish accent, and with a deep rich melancholy voice. "Very," said Mr. Pendennis.
"Long life to your honor and Master Charles there, too, and them that belongs to both of yez. May a gooseberry skin make a nightcap for the man would harm either of ye." "Thank you, Mike. And now about that song." "It's the ouldest tune ever was sung," said Mike, with a hiccough, "barring Adam had a taste for music; but the words the poethry is not so ould." "And how comes that?"
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