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Updated: July 7, 2025
'Do ye, he says, 'go downstairs now, an' shovel up a ton or two iv it, he says. 'Afther which, he says, 'ye can roll a kag iv beer into me bedroom, he says; 'f'r 'tis dhry wurruk settin' up here watchin' ixpansion ixpand, he says. "That's what Cousin George 'll say to th' Loot.
"Yes, Prosperity has come hollerin' an screamin'. To read th' papers, it seems to be a kind iv a vagrancy law. No wan can loaf anny more. Th' end iv vacation has gone f'r manny a happy lad that has spint six months ridin' through th' counthry, dodgin' wurruk, or loafin' under his own vine or hat-three.
Ye wudden't see Martin I, iv beloved mim'ry, runnin' around like a hired entertainer, wan day doin' th wurruk iv a talkative bricklayer at th' layin' iv a cornerstone, another day presidin' over a bankit iv th' Amalgamated Society iv Mannyfacthrers iv Hooks-an'-Eyes or racin' horses with Boots Durnell an' Charlie Ox or waitin' out in th' rain f'r a balloon to come down that's stuck on a church steeple forty miles away.
Besides they speak fr'm experyence. An' mebbe that's th' throuble. We're always harder with our own kind thin with others. 'Tis I that'd be th' fine cinsor iv a bartinder's wurruk. Th' more ye ought to be a servant ye'ersilf th' more difficult'tis f'r ye to get along with servants.
The Lieutenant'll remimber 'tis the horrse that had a bit of a spavin, Sure I thot 'twas cured, and 'tis the kindest baste in the rigiment f'r a pleasure ride, sorr that willin' 'tis. So I tuk it. I think 'tis only the stiffness at furrst aff. 'Twill wurruk aff later. Plaze God, I'll wallop him." And the Sergeant walloped with a will.
Besides a mustard plasther wud hurt. So th' good woman, frivilous crather that she is, goes back to her wurruk singin' a light chune. She knows she's goin' to have to put up with ye f'r some time to come. A mustard plasther, Hinnissy, is th' rale test iv whether a pain is goin' to kill ye or not. If the plasther is onbearable ye can bet th' pain undherneath it is not.
Thin if th' wurruk ain't good a wild-eyed man fr'm Paterson, Noo Jarsey, laves his monkey an' his hand organ an' takes a shot at ye. Thank th' Lord I'm not so big that anny man can get comfort fr'm pumpin' a Winchester at me fr'm th' top iv a house." "But if I was king ne'er an organ grinder'd get near enough me to take me life with a Hotchkiss gun.
I'll keep me sympathy f'r th' poor fellow that has nobody to lure him away fr'm his toil an' that has to sweat through August with no chanst iv gettin' a day in th' open onless th' milishy are ordhered out an' thin whin he goes back to wurruk th' chances are somebody's got his job while th' sthrikin' wurrukin' man returns with his pockets full iv cigars an' is hugged at th' dure be the main guy.
"Yis; but I have to pay it, for no other class o' min can do the wurruk. Why, it 'ud kill an American or a Dootchman!" "They must have money saved up." "All that they don't spind at me bar up on the corner. They have to save some, for in the nature o' things I can't git it all back. And they're all goin' back to the old sod whin navigation closes in about two weeks.
'Pass on, blockhead, says th' faculty. 'Pass on, Hinnissy ye'll niver larn annything. An' there ye are. What'll ye take?" "I wudden't mind havin' a little" began Mr. Hennessy. "I don't mean what you mean," said Mr. Dooley. "Will ye have th' avenin' paper or a little iv th' old stuff off th' shelf?" "Well, sir, 'tis a gr-r-rand wurruk thim Sinitors an' Congressmen are doin' in Wash'n'ton.
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