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Updated: June 4, 2025
Shure, it doesn't always shtart wid the sun shinin. 'Will ye marry me? says Teddy Flynn to me. 'I will, says I. 'Then I'll come back from Canaday to futch ye, says he, wid a tear in his eye. "'For what's a man in ould Ireland that has a head for annything but puttaties! There's land free in Canaday, an' I'm goin' to make a home for ye, Mary, says he, wavin' a piece of paper in the air.
"Vell," said the seaman, after obeying instructions, "I yoost had vun hell of a time, und he make a long rest in de land, I do py dammage! I keep a leedle book from off de day ve shtart ouid." I heard the measured pace of the brave "shkvarehet" below as he racked his brains for words.
Wan av us'll pass the wurrd to the room an' we shtart the divil an' all av a shine laughin' an' crackin' on an' t'rowin' our boots about.
Richlun, iss teh mayn! teh mayn fot I kin trust!" The baker's middle parts bent out and his arms were drawn akimbo. Thus for ten seconds. "'Undt now, Mr. Richlun, do you kot teh shtrengdt for to shtart a noo pissness? Pecause, Toctor, udt pin seem to me Mr. So ten he sayss to me, 'Mister Reisen, I am yoost so sollut undt shtrong like a pilly-coat! Fot is teh noo pissness? 'Mr.
We shlit him from close under the mouth to near the tail and overhauled everything that wuz in him. In the stomach we found a collection of soup an' bouillon cans an' bottles enough to shtart a liquor house. As we wuz examinin' the stuff, the ould man came on deck an' thundered out:" "'What the blazes are ye doin' there messin' me decks up!
Ve vas dere nearly four months ven ve shtart ouid. De oder men dey vas sore, but dey vanted de old man to bromise to gif dem big money, und ve go for noding. Ve fix oop de boat und ve kvit." Steve went on to describe how they fixed up the boat for the voyage by making guards of canvas about the sides, and an awning which they could raise and lower.
She's jist as much of a leddy as there is in Sivenoaks, bedad, an' I have to put on me big airs, an' thrash around wid me two hands in me breeches pockets, an' shtick out me lips like a lorrd, an' promise to raise the divil wid her whiniver she gits a fit o' high flyin', an' ye'll have to do the same, Jim, or jist lay down an' let 'er shtep on ye. Git a good shtart, Jim.
Shure, it doesn't always shtart wid the sun shinin. 'Will ye marry me? says Teddy Flynn to me. 'I will, says I. 'Then I'll come back from Canaday to futch ye, says he, wid a tear in his eye. "'For what's a man in ould Ireland that has a head for annything but puttaties! There's land free in Canaday, an' I'm goin' to make a home for ye, Mary, says he, wavin' a piece of paper in the air.
And he indicated an irregular, blood-soaked, clawed-up patch in the snow where the sanguinary swath ended. They dismounted. Slavin drawing up alongside the coroner's cutter handed over his lines to the teamster. "Now!" said he, "let's shtart in! . . . Ye must have 'shpotted this on yeh way up, Docthor?" He pointed to the patch. The latter nodded. "Yes! we thought it must have happened here."
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