| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 366 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
too, if you ask me,' said Bundy. `Yes,' said Harlow; `they lives on the fat o' the land, and wears the best of everything, and they does nothing for it but talk a lot of twaddle two or three times a week. The rest of the time they spend cadgin' money orf silly old women who thinks it's a sorter fire insurance.' `It's an old sayin' and a true one,' chimed in the man on the upturned pail. `Parsons and publicans is the worst enemies the workin' man ever 'ad. There may be SOME good 'uns, but they're few and far between.' `If I could only get a job like the Harchbishop of Canterbury,' said Philpot, solemnly, `I'd leave this firm.' `So would I,' said Harlow, `if I was the Harchbishop of Canterbury, I'd take my pot and brushes down the office and shy 'em |
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