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Updated: June 4, 2025
He lost his balance, an' fell fr'm th' scaffoldin' he was wurrukin' on; an' th' last wurruds he said was, 'Did I get him or didn't I? Mrs. O'Grady said it was th' will iv Gawd; an' he was burrid at Calvary with a funeral iv eighty hacks, an' a great manny people in their own buggies. Dorsey, th' conthractor, was there with his wife. He thought th' wurruld an' all iv O'Grady.
I stand firm be union principles an' besides it's hot as blazes up there these days. I wudden't mind havin' a few weeks off." "Ye'll do right to quit," said Mr. Dooley. "I have no sympathy with sthrikers. I have no sympathy with thim anny more thin I have with people goin' off to a picnic. A sthrike is a wurrukin' man's vacation.
If I was rejooced to wurrukin' f'r me livin', if I was a son iv Marthy I'd be a bricklayer. They always sthrike durin' th' buildin' season. They time it just right. They niver quit wurruk. They thry not to meet it. It is what Hogan calls a pecolyar fact that bricklayers always time their vacations f'r th' peeryod whin there is wurruk to be done.
Who was it that saved the Union, Jawn? Who was it? Who are th' frinds iv th' Irish? Who protecks th' poor wurrukin'man so that he'll have to go on wurrukin'? We do, Jawn. We Raypublicans, by dad. "They ain't a Dimmycrat fr'm wan end iv th' road to th' other. I just was over makin' a visit on Docherty, an' he'd took down th' picture iv Jackson an' Cleveland an' put up wan iv Grant an' Lincoln.
No, sir, pollytics ain't dhroppin' into tea, an' it ain't wurrukin' a scroll saw, or makin' a garden in a back yard. 'Tis gettin' up at six o'clock in th' mornin' an' r-rushin' off to wurruk, an' comin' home at night tired an' dusty. Double wages f'r overtime an' Sundahs." "So a man's got to be marrid to do it well.
'Go back to me gr-reat an' good frind an' tell him that th' hear-rt iv th' raypublican party throbs f'r him, he says. 'An' Sicrety Hay's, he says, 'an' mine, he says, 'unofficially, he says. 'Me official hear-rt, he says, 'is not permitted be th' constitootion to throb durin' wurrukin' hours, he says. "An' so it goes.
An' he tuk some other la-ads, I f'rget their names, they wasn't heroes, annyhow, but was wurrukin' be th' day; an' he wint in in his undherclothes, so's not to spoil his suit, an' th' Castiles hurled death an' desthruction on him.
They're a fine family f'r falls. Jawn Grogan was wurrukin' on th' top iv Metzri an' O'Connell's brewery wanst, with a man be th' name iv Dorsey. He slipped an' fell wan hundherd feet. Whin they come to see if he was dead, he got up, an' says he: 'Lave me at him. 'At who? says they. 'He's deliryous, they says. 'At Dorsey, says Grogan.
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