Tis wan iv th'
spoorts iv th' youth iv our gr-reat cities to rowl an impty beer keg
down th' steps iv a Chinee laundhry, an' if e'er a Chinyman come out to
resint it they'd take him be th' pigtail an' do th' joynt swing with
him. But th' Chinyman at home's a diff'rent la-ad. He's with his frinds
an' they're manny iv thim an' he's rowlin' th' beer kegs himsilf an'
Westhren Civilization is down in th' laundhry wondhrin' whin th'
police'll come along."
"Th' Lord f'rgive f'r sayin' it, Hinnissy, but if I was a Chinyman,
which I will fight anny man f'r sayin,' an' was livin' at home, I'd tuck
me shirt into me pants, put me braid up in a net, an' go out an' take a
fall out iv th' in-vader if it cost me me life. Here am I, Hop Lung
Dooley, r-runnin' me little liquor store an' p'rhaps raisin' a family in
th' town iv Koochoo. I don't like foreigners there anny more thin I do
here. Along comes a bald-headed man with chin whiskers from Baraboo,
Wisconsin, an' says he: 'Benighted an' haythen Dooley,' says he, 'ye
have no God,' he says. 'I have,' says I. 'I have a lot iv thim,' says I.
'Ye ar-re an oncultivated an' foul crather,' he says. 'I have come six
thousan' miles f'r to hist ye fr'm th' mire iv ignorance an' irrellijon
in which ye live to th' lofty plane iv Baraboo,' he says.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61