Then Dutchy jumped in and begun t’ kick the parson’s dawg in the snoot. The parson walks up and stops Dutchy.
That made the Dutchman turrible mad. He didn’t have no gun on him, so out he jerks his pig-sticker.
What happened next made our eyes plumb stick out. That parson side-stepped, put out a hand and a foot, and with that highfalutin’ Jewie Jitsie you read about, tumbled corn-beef-and-cabbage on to his back. Then he straddled him and slapped his face.
“Lieber!” screeched Dutchy.
“Goin’ t’ have any more Sunday night dances?” ast the parson. (Bing, bang.)
“Nein! Nein!”
“Any more” (bing, bang) “free Sunday suppers?”
“Nein! Nein! Hellup!”
“Goin’ to change this” (biff, biff) “saloon’s name!”