Animal Farm: a Fairy Story and Essay's Collection / Скотный двор и сборник эссе

Mr Jones of the Manor Farm, had locked the henhouses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs Jones was already snoring.

You would not rob us of our repose, would you, comrades? You would not have us too tired to carry out our duties

end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To

Mr Jones of the Manor Farm, had locked the henhouses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where

communicate it to the other animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Mr Jones was safely out of the way.