Oh yes, I most not make soch mistakes." Indeed he registered a very sincere vow to study his family history that afternoon.
"What was I saying?
Oh yes--about your brave great-grandfather.

Do you know, Lord Tulliwuddle, I want to ask you a strange favor?
You won't think it very odd of me ?" "Odd?
Never! Already it is granted." "I want to hear from your own lips--from the lips of an actual Lord Tulliwuddle--the story of your ancestor Ian's exploit." With beseeching eyes and a face flushed with a sense of her presumption, she uttered this request in a voice that tore the Baron with conflicting emotions.
"Vich exploit do you mean ?" he asked in a kindly voice but with a troubled eye.
"You must know! When he defended the pass, of course." "Ach, so!" The Baron looked at her, and though he boasted of no such inventive gifts as his friend Bunker, his ardent heart bade him rather commit himself to perdition than refuse.
"You will tell it to me ?" "I vill!" Making as much as possible of the raconteur's privileges of clearing his throat, settling himself into good position, and gazing dreamily at the tree-tops for inspiration, he began in a slow, measured voice-- "In ze pass he stood.

Zen gomed his enemies.

He fired his gon and shooted some dead.

Zen did zey run avay.