Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"It fell about the Martinmas, when nights are long and mirk, The carline wife's three sons cam hame, and their hats were o' the birk. It neither grew in syke nor dyke, nor yet in ony sheugh, But at the gates o' Paradise that birk grew fair eneuch."
'Cut it, Bull, and run, 'e said. They used to call me John Bull, you know. Then 'e added slow as if 'e was not sure 'e 'ad the right to tell 'I'm on to their game. To-morrow mornin' I'm goin' to squeal on 'em to the commandant. That'll give you plenty o' time for you to get awye. For old times' syke, Bull, 'e said as 'e gripped my 'and."
"'Ave yer b'ynet fixed?" he asked, by way of answer. "Bayonet fixed?" "Yes," said he, "'urry up! We're late." "Late?" I repeated. "For Gawd's syke," he exclaimed, "don't yer know as 'ow we are goin' hout? Goin' over to the German trenches goin' hout!" Scene from the Photo-Play I gulped. "Going to make a charge?" "No ... goin' HOUT ... listenin'-post."
"Garn!" the scorn of W. Keyse was something awful "you an' your love " She wrenched the cotton lace away from her thin throat, and tore some of her hair out in the strenuous hysteria of her class, and screamed at him: "Me an' my love!... Go on!... Frow it in me face, an' 'ave no pity! Me an' my love!... Sneer at it, take an' spit on it ain't it yours all the syme? Oh, for Gawd's syke forgive me!"
Word Of The Day