human
Well, I'll be blowed!
gpt
Oh, that our thoughts and thanks may rise, As grateful incense to the skies; And draw from heaven that sweet repose Which none but he that feels it knows.
human
Keep the ounces, said he.
gpt
Ther's an old woman to hum that thinks a sight o' me--I reckon, myself, I'm good fur somethin' besides fillin' a hole in the ground.