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.'