"Ah, there, sporty!" my assistant greets me In the shop. "Stand treat on this festive occasion. "Yes, Red. Have a chew, " I reply with a smile, handing him my fresh plug of tobacco. His eyes twinkle with mischievous humor as he scrutinizes my changed suit of dark gray. The larger part of the plug swelling out his cheek, he flings to me the remnant across the table, remarking: "Don't care fort. Take back your choo, I'll keep me honor,your plug, I mean, sonny. A gentleman of my eminence, sir, a natural-born navigator on the high seas of social life,-are you on, me bye?-a gentleman, I repeat, sir, whose canoe the mutations of all that is human have chucked on this here dry, thrice damned dry latitude, sir, this nocuous plague-spot of civilization,-say, kid, what t' hell am I talkin' about? Damn if I ain't clean forgot." "I'm sure I don't know, Red." "Like hell you don't! It's your glad duds, kid. Offerin' me a ch-aw tob-b-bac-co!
A Voice of Ireland
Yes-tear down our homes! leave the hearthstone cold As the hearts of you who have laid it bare; And stone from stone let the walls be rolled, And our home be one with the outer air, Heap wrong on wrong! We have had to bear More wrongs than ever our tongues can tell; One right is left us-we still forbear, O England, to use it-the right to rebel! We have borne so much that a little more, You think, may be borne by us unrepaid? And our backs must bow as they bowed before, While on quivering flesh are the lashes laid? O England, are you never afraid Of us you have tortured so long and so well? Do you never doubt which the Fates would aid- Of us or you-if we rose to rebel? Do you ne... (From : AnarchyArchives.)