"Naggeneen, me boy," said the King, "just take your fut in your hand
and go to the King of All Ireland. Give him me compliments and ask him
would he think there was anything against the whole of us goin' to the
States."
"Is it me that would be runnin' arrants to the King of All Ireland,"
Naggeneen answered: "me, that don't belong to your thribe at all, and
forty lazy spalpeens around here wearin' their legs off wid dancin' or
rustin' them off wid doin' nothin' at all?"
"It's thrue you don't belong to me thribe," said the King, "and glad I
am of that same. But while ye stay in me rath ye'll do what I bid ye.
Why would I kape a dog and bark meself? Go on, now, and do what I tell
ye, or ye know what I'll do to ye. Be off now!"
Naggeneen was off.
Now, while Naggeneen is gone with his message to the King of All
Ireland, I will just take a minute to say something that I have felt
like saying for quite a little while. He will not be gone much more
than a minute. What I have to say is this: Nearly all the people in
this story, mortals and fairies, too, had the way of speaking that
most Irish people have, which we call a brogue.
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