"Be hivins, I like th' way me kinsmen acrost th' sea, as th' pa-apers
say, threat us. 'Ye whelps,' says Lord Char-les Beresford an' Roodyard
Kipling an' Tiddy Rosenfelt an' th' other Anglo-Saxons. 'Foolish an'
frivolous people, cheap but thrue-hearted an' insincere cousins,' they
says. ''Tis little ye know about annything. Ye ar-re a disgrace to
humanity. Ye love th' dollar betther thin ye love annything but two
dollars. Ye ar-re savage, but inthrestin'. Ye misname our titles. Ye
use th' crool Krag-Jorgensen instead iv th' ca'm an' penethratin'
Lee-Metford. Ye kiss ye'er heroes, an' give thim wurruk to do. We
smash in their hats, an' illivate thim to th' peerage. Ye have
desthroyed our language. Ye ar-re rapidly convartin' our ancesthral
palaces into dwellin'-houses. Ye'er morals are loose, ye'er dhrinks
ar-re enervatin' but pleasant, an' ye talk through ye'er noses. Ye
ar-re mussy at th' table, an' ye have no religion. But ye ar-re whelps
iv th' ol' line. Those iv ye that ar-re not our brothers-in-law we
welcome as brothers. Ye annoy us so much ye must be mimbers iv our own
fam'ly.
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