And I'm quite sure as they meant it all, for
they larfed all the while as they torked about it.
This same one had a Ticket for Guildhall the hother heavening, when
about four thowsand gests was there, and jolly fun he says it was, for
they all seemed to begin a drinking of werry good Shampane about Nine
a Clock, and kep on at it for above three hours, for there wasn't not
nothink else for 'em to do, and so they did that, and did it well.
He arsked me if I coud remember what outlandish names the principal
gests was all called, and when I told him I thort they was HIGH-GIN
and DEMMY-GROGGY, they all roared again, and shouted out, "that's
another to you ROBERT; go ahead, my tulip!" Tho what they meant I'm
sure I don't kno.
Our gentlemanly Manager looked in to see how they was a getting on,
and when they told him what they called my last joke, ewen he larfed
away like the best on 'em. The fust time I gets a chance I'll ask him
to explain it all to me.
What seemed to have struck the Amerrycan most, was what he described
as the twelve most bewtifool Angels, all most bewtifoolly drest, in
most bewtifool close, a playing most bewtifool toons on most bewtifool
Arps! which he said reminded him more of Heaven than anythink he had
ever seen or heard.
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