Two ‘mericana Men

Beeg Irish cop dat walk hees beat By den peanutta stan’, First two, t’ree week w’en we are meet Ees call me 'Dagoman.' An’ w’en he see how mad I gat, Wheech eesa pleass heem, too, Wan day he say: 'W’at’s matter dat, Ain’t ‘Dago’ name for you? Dat’s ‘Mericana name, you know, For man from Eetaly; Eet ees no harm for call you so, Den why be mad weeth me?' First time he talka deesa way I am too mad for speak, But nexta time I justa say: 'All righta Meester Meeck I' O! my, I nevva hear bayfore Sooch langwadge like he say; An’ he don’t look at me no more For mebbe two, t’ree day. But pretta soon agen I see Den beeg poleecaman Dat com’ an’ growl an’ say to me; 'Halo, Eyetalian! Now, mebbe so you gon’ deny Dat dat’sa name for you.' I smila back an’ mak’ reply: 'No, Irish, dat’sa true.' 'Ha! Joe,' be cry, 'you theenk dat we Should call you ‘Merican ?' 'Dat’s gooda ‘nough,' I say, 'for me, Eef dat’s w’at you are, Dan.' So now all times we speaka so Like gooda ‘Merican: He say to me, 'Good morna, Joe,' I say, 'Good morn, Dan.'