"Вуди Гасри. Bound for glory (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"If you're such a good weaver, mister, you can come back here and sew
up my drawers! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"Fancy pants! Whoooeee!"
"I plowed th' straightest row of corn in Missouri three year ago!"
"Yaaa! But, mister big shot, dey don't grown no corn in dese here
boxcars, see! Yaaa! Dat's de last bitta woik yez ever done!"
"No Swede cut much timber as me, Big Swede! I cutta 'nuff of that white
pine ta build up da whole town!"
"Quiet down! You dam bunch of liars, you! Blowin' off at yer head what
all you can do! I hear this talk all up and down these railroads! You had a
good job somewhere once or twice in your life, then you go around blabbin'
off at your mouth for fifteen years! Tellin' people what all kinds of
wonders you done! Look at you! Look at your clothes! All of the clothes in
this car ain't worth three dollars! Look at your hands! Look at your faces!
Drunk! Sick! Hungry! Dirty! Mean! Onery! I won't lie like you rats! An` I
got on the best suit of clothes in this car! Work? Me work? Hell, no! I see
somethin' I want, an' I just up an' take it!"
Looking back over my shoulder, I saw a little man, skinny, puny,
shaking like he had a machine gun in his hands, raise up on his knees from
the other end of the car and sail a brown quart bottle through the air.
Glass shattered against the back of the well-dressed man's head. Red port
wine rained all over me and my guitar and twenty other men that tried to
duck. The man in the suit of clothes keeled over and hit the floor like a
dead cow.
"I got my papers! I got my job already signed up!" The guy that slung
the bottle was tromping through the car patting his chest and preaching. "I
had a brother in Pearl Harbor! I'm on my way right this minute to Chicago to
go to work rollin' steel to lick this Hitler bunch! I hope the gent with the
nice suit on is restin` comfortable! But I ain't apologizing to none of you!
I throwed that bottle! Want to make anythin' out of it?" He shook both fists
and stood there looking at all of us.
I wiped my hands around over me where the wine was spilled. I saw
everybody else was picking chips of glass out of their clothes and mumbling
amongst themselves. "Crazy lunatic." "Hadn't ought ta done that." "Might of
missed 'im, hit one of us."
The mumble got loud and broke into a crack like zigzag lightning.
Little bunches of men circled around arguing. A few guys walked from bunch
to bunch preaching over other fellows' shoulders. At the side of me a
husky-looking man got up and said, "What all he says about Pearl Harbor and
all is okay, men, but still he hadn't ought to have thrown that wine bottle.
I'm going to walk back there and kick his rear good and proper just to teach
him a lesson!"
Then from somewhere at my back a half-breed Indian boy dove out and
tackled the husky man around the ankles and they tangled into a knot and
rolled around over the floor, beating, scratching, and clawing. Their feet
kicked other men in the face and other men kicked them back and jumped into
the fight.
"You're not gonna hurt that little fella!"
"I'll kill you, Indian!"
"Hey! Watch who th' hell you're kickin'!"