"But it doesn't spile the dhrame, I hope?"
"O no. Go an."
"Well, with that, I thought I was passin' by Doolins the miller's, and says he to me, 'Will you carry home this sack o' male for me?' Now, you know, male is money, every fool knows!"
"Right, avic."
"And so I tuk the sack o' male an my shouldher, and I thought the woight iv it was killin' me, just as if it was a sack o' goold."
"Go an, Darby."
"And with that I thought I met with a cat, and that, you know, manes an ill-nathur'd woman."
"Right, Darby."
"And says she to me, 'Darby Kelleher,' says she, 'you're mighty yollow, God bless you; is it the jandhers you have?' says she. Now wasn't that mighty sharp? I think the jandhers manes goold?"
"Yis, iv it was the yollow jandhers you dhremt iv, and not the black jandhers."