human
If you want the words of my song you must come and fetch them, little beastly Dashwood! What a lot of fools you English are! And so your Great Push will begin at 7.30 in the morning. Very well, we shall be ready for you!
gpt
Reedshires!--Get Over!
human
Where's that wounded Highlander?
gpt
If you mean the singing bloke, sir--last I seed of 'im he was doin' a bunk for his own battalion,
human
If you clap eyes on that man again, Hawke! he exclaimed,