Around dese parts dey call me Snoddy. I'se a newsie. A newsie with a family ta' support. Yeah, a family. Some nights I sleep at the lodgin' house. Some nights I sleep at home. But, trust me, da' lodgin' house beats out sharin' a bed with three brudders and sisters, and me parents. Thank God wese finally gots a cradle for da' baby.

Every day I go and sell the newspapers, or 'carry da' banner,' as we say, on the streets. But today was different. Jack and da' new guy, Davey, wanted us ta' go on strike. Strike! Dat's dangerous business ta' get into. It's common knowledge dat people die in strikes. How can a dead newsie earn money for his family? I can't be a dead newsie.

On da' odder hand, if the price a' da' papes is raised again I wont be able ta' make enough dough ta' support nobodies no how.

It all depends on what da odder newsies do. If da' rest a' dem decide ta' strike, den I'll strike too. Lord knows no one likes no scabber. Not even Pulitzer. But, if no one else strikes, den I won't either. Ya' gotta know what sides da' safest side ta' be on. If I didn't have ta' watch me back for me family's sake, den' I would strike without no hesitation. But, like I said, I can't be no dead newsie.

I can hear Jack askin' everyone if we're just gonna' take what Pulitzer gives us, or strike. Only da' new guy's kid brudder says anythin'. But he gots everyone else started. Looks like da' newsies are goin' on strike. Looks like I'se gonna go on strike too. I sure hope I get outta' dis' one alive.