“Pitch a lady’s luggage into the road, would you?” struck in Jim the Guard, making himself heard above the pillaloo.
However in the same breath he talks of writing a poem on the herons at Algericas “in a few years time”... What a pillaloo!
“Och, but its kilt and smashed intirely they are,” returned Larry, as he stumbled over the shattered remains of a corpse; “och hone – och hone – pillaloo, pillaloo!”
The dialogue was brought to a sudden stop by the frantic yell of the juvenile pledge of their affections, whose years had not yet reached two figures; a compact little iron-bound box had fallen on his toe, and the poor little urchin’s pilliloo, pilliloo, was pitiful.
An’ the wust was, that what wi’ the rumpus an’ her singin’ out “Pillaloo!” an’ how the devil was amongst mun, havin’ great wrath, the Lawyer’s sarmon about a “wecked an’ ’dulterous generation seekin’ arter a sign” was clean sp’iled.