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She jumped at me troat thin an' would you belave me, As quick as a wink through the dure did she have me, And howled as I struck—will her tones ever lave me?—

Well, say, as the tramp says, 'Me stomach tinks me troat's cut.'

“No good, now,” he answered, mournfully; “dey cut all our troats.”

"Big man me shoot got him bullet through chest; little man with black beard and nose like cockatoo you shoot, got him bullet through chest too, close up longa troat."

If she stop, dat fellow cut her troat.”