“I talk you, tickie no goodie.”
“No good, eh?”
Well you ought to see dem two harps. Dugan looked at Clancy and den at the Chink and said:
“Say, you funny-eyed devil, if you don't give me phat belongs to me—that's me overalls and jumper—be the holy smoke, I'll bate your dirty, yellow puss till there's more wrinkles in it then there's in a washboard, you dirty washie, washie,” and he makes a grab at de Chink. But de Chink jumped out of de way, and grabbed a flat-iron to soak him. Then Clancy, de udder harp, grabbed de Chink be th' neck and soaked him in de features wit his right, and trowed him down, and de two of dem started in soakin' him all over de laundry, when another Chink came out of de back room wit a club. When Dugan seen him he made for him. De Chink seen the size of Dugan, he dropped de club, and grabbed a fist full of wet starch out of a pail and soaked Dugan between de lamps wit it. While Dugan was tryin' to get it out uv his eyes de two Chinks kept on wallopin' him wit de clubs till poor Dugan had to take it on a jump tru de door, and left Clancy to be thrown in a wash tub and drowned wit a half dozen pails of dirty water. Well, say, when Clancy came up out of de laundry his head and kisser wuz all covered wit blue, and he wuz leakin' like a bloke dat had water on de brain. And dere wuz Dugan up de street, tryin' to get de starch out of his lamps wit his fingers. When Clancy spied Dugan, he walked down to him and grabbed him by de arm. Dugan looked up, and thinkin' Clancy wuz de Chink, de way he wuz covered wit blue, wuz just goin' to go at him again, when Clancy yelled: “Hold on there, Dugan, hold on; it's me, Clancy.”
Dugan looked up at him, still trying to get the starch out of his lamps, and every now and then saying: “Say, Clancy, how did you come out?”
“Take it from me, them Chinks are bad blokes te monkey wid.”