Gamp flourished his fist in the air and began again:
“Ding this tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut——”
“Whistle, Joe—whistle!” advised Frank.
Whereupon the tall chap recommenced:
“Ding this tut-tut-tut—whistle—town! It’s all up hill and dud-dud-dud—whistle—down!”
“Oh, Joseph, you’re a poet!” exclaimed Ready.
“Yah,” said Dunnerwurst gravely, “oudt uf him boetry flows like a sbarkling rifer.”
“We have decided in solemn conclave,” said Ready, “that the streets of this prosperous Western burgh are exceedingly soiled.”
“Und some of them been stood their end onto,” put in Hans.
“It’s hard to keep your fuf-fuf-fuf—whistle—feet from slipping in the sus-sus-sus—whistle—street,” added Gamp.