Yer bloomin’, hugly furriner!” he added, with a sneer.
“Hi thinks as ’ow you dagoes is the cuss o’ this ’ere land,
With wuthy citizens like me ’most starved on every ’and.
Hi vows hif I’d me wi at all hi’d order hout a troop,
Hand send the bloomin’ lot o’ yer ’ead over ’eels in soup.
Git hout, yer nahsty grabber yer; hewacuate the stoop.”
Then when the snow had melted off, Fitzjohn Augustus went
And humbly asked his master for two dollars that he’d spent
In paying Napolini di Vendetta Pasquarelle;
While Nap went back to Italy, the land that loved him well,