... to sell it to the Mond or the International Nickel Company, and if they didn't choose to take it from us, they would tell us to go jump in the lake.
[I] rode out with Saiyed Hashem to visit the site of ‘a very ancient city’ not far from the qasr, which must have been a village of mud huts built fifty years ago—I know too well the Arab's sense of time and space (in fact there was not a stone to be seen and what m companion described as the ancient city wall is a semi-circular ridge not more than five hundred feet long); but I started to say that the boy who walked behind my thelul, or according to the standard Oxford spelling zelul¹ (my literary friends in America, who have accused me of eccentricity in the transliteration of Arabic words of which I know the pronunciation and, therefore, how they should be written, will not blame me, I hope, for following deferentially the learned Arabists of Oxford)—but what about the boy that was walking behind my zelul?
I don't think you ready for this jelly / I don't think you ready for this / 'Cause my body too bootylicious for ya, babe
to repair a house, a road, a shoe, a ship