It ain't no use uv fergit it dis time, cos I can't. Dere's sum t'ings er bloke can't git out uv his nut fer er long time.
Wun uv dem, is w'ere a bundle he is stuck on gives him de merry laugh—yer know, de t'row down, de dinky-dink.
De odder is w'ere he gits up agin a new graft wot looks nice an' easy, but wot cums ez hard ez gittin' er ten-case note out uv er Chinkey idol.
Dere's er mug in dis village wot wears his hair long an' is stuck on his shape. He's wun uv dem guys wot's been gittin' all kinds uv cush out uv de fisical culture graft, an' it cum in so fast dat his flippers got sore countin' de coin.
He ain't satisfied wid gittin' coin dat way, but he t'inks he'll cop sum uv de long green wid de grub racket—start restrants, are yer on?
So he goes out an' hires er few joints an' paints all w'ite on de outside, hires er lot uv bundles ter wait on de tables, an' bunch uv good lookin' dames ter be cashiers an' nail de cush from de blokes w'en dey go out, an' den he's ready.
But he's got er good nut on him, in wun way, fer pickin' out dem gals ter sit on high stools behin' de desk an' give de mugs er smile w'en dey pay up. Dere's a hull lot uv people wot'll fall fer dat kind uv graft, an' dey'll steer fer er joint wot hez er han'some gal in front just like er sailor heads fer de Bowery ez soon ez he gits his liberty an' six months' pay.
Dat's wot a cupple uv red ribbons an' er cupple uv rows uv ivory will do to er bloke, whether he's er kid gittin' $3 er week for carryin' bundles, er a big mug down in Wall street wot kin put his feet on de desk w'enever he feels like it.
Well. I sees wun uv dese joints an' I t'inks dat de next time I feel like puttin' er feed bag on dat I'll give it er try out. I'd been better off if I'd let it go at dat an' stuck ter de Irish turkey—ah, corned beef, ain't yer on?—what Her Nobs hands out reg'lar.
Ennyhow, wun fine dav in I blows an' cops out er seat at wun uv de tables. Pretty soon a gal in er w'ite apron cums erlong an' hands me er bill uv fair.