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"Indiana's ma state. The tornado country.... Git to work; here's that bastard wop comin' around the buildin'." "Don't pick 'em up that-a-way; sweep 'em up," shouted the corporal. Andrews and the Indiana boy went round with a broom and a shovel collecting chewed-out quids of tobacco and cigar butts and stained bits of paper. "What's your name? Mahn's Chrisfield. Folks all call me Chris."
Near that town Prince Eugene had quitted the high road, and, in order to proceed towards Witepsk, had taken that which, two months before, had brought him from Smolensk; but the Wop, which, when he had crossed it before, was a mere brook, and had scarcely been noticed, he now found swollen into a river. It ran over a muddy bed, and was bounded by two steep banks.
A old Eyetalian wop used to come ’round town selling them. He had a stick with about a hundred little balloons tied to it red, blue, green, yellow all kinds and colours. Whenever I had the price I bought one." "Did it fly?" "Yes. The gas in it wasn’t much good unless you got a fresh one." "Would it fly high?" "Sure. Sky-high. I’ve seen ’em go clean out of sight when you got a fresh one."
We studied him at the Reading Circle. You know who he was, Orvy." "Certainly I know who he was! The Wop poet. Where do you think I was raised?" from her insulted husband. "Sure the fellow that took the Cook's Tour to Hell. I've never waded through his po'try, but we learned about him in the U.," said Babbitt. Dannnnnty!" intoned Eddie Swanson. "You ought to get him easy, Mr.
The wop kid inhabited a small room at the very top of a building half-way down the street. He was out when John and Pugsy arrived. It was not an abode of luxury, the tenement; they had to feel their way up the stairs in almost pitch darkness. Most of the doors were shut, but one on the second floor was ajar. Through the opening John had a glimpse of a number of women sitting on up-turned boxes.
So I climb into the nosebag without a peep. Yet would you believe it? when that wop came to cash in he shook the mothballs out of a roll of bills that looked like nine miles' worth of hall carpet. I had been acting very reserved heretofore, but when he made this flash he commenced to look like a very dear friend of mine who had been very kind to me in moments of adversity.
The eyes were contracted with anger and there was a flush under the tan of the boyish face. "Ah didn't git in this here army to be ordered around by a goddam wop," he muttered. "Doesn't matter much who you're ordered around by, you're ordered around just the same," said Andrews. "Where d'ye come from, buddy?" "Oh, I come from New York. My folks are from Virginia," said Andrews.
"I got dat from a kid what knows anuder kid what lives dere," explained Master Maloney. "Say," he proceeded confidentially, "dat kid's in bad, sure he is. Dat second kid, de one what lives dere. He's a wop kid, an " "A what, Comrade Maloney?" "A wop. A Dago. Why, don't you get next? Why, an Italian. Sure, dat's right.
What P. Forilland had done for a previous generation of Americans, when Iroquois snatched the Blue Riband of the Turf from the English and bore it across the Atlantic, Ikey meant to do some day at Liverpool. "We've wopped 'em once on the flat, and we'll wop 'em yet across country," he once said at Meadow Brook.
"Doc," he said, "let’s talk business. We’re men, we are, you an’ me. I’ve fought you plenty times. I know. An’ I guess you are on to me, too. I ain’t no squealer; you know that anyway. Perhaps I’m everything else you claim I am when you make parlor speeches to Gussie an’ Reggie an’ when you stand on a bar’l in Avenoo A an’ say: ’my friends’ to Billy an’ Izzy an’ Pete the Wop. "All right. Go to it!
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