Word: lilted
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...these men and women? Many of them come from the Midlands, from Yorkshire, Manchester and Birmingham, sporting their distinct regional accents like badges-it is no longer necessary to affect an Oxford accent to get ahead. Some of the new voices have a cockney lilt; from London's own working-class East End come Actors Michael Caine and Terence Stamp, Playwrights Arnold Wesker and Harold Pinter, Television Magnate Lew Grade, Textilemen Joe Hyman and Nikki Seekers. Others breeze in from the coal-mining North Country. There are bluff Yorkshiremen like the P.M. or Actor Peter O'Toole, Albert...
...lilt and beauty of Alfred's language also presents a problem of integration. In the first act there is a certain speechiness, a tendency for dialogue to jump out of context and character for poetic effect. Combined with the painfully sparse movement of the first few scenes, this makes the early part of Hogan's Goat easier to listen to than to watch. By the end of Act I, however, as Quinn spits in Matthew Stanton's face, the action catches up with the language...
...that "Royboy" was all that sympathetic to the blacks. He simply wanted to prevent Smith from breaking openly with Britain. As he waited on a balcony to concede defeat, a crowd of Smith supporters beat him to it. The tune was Goodnight, Irene, but the words had a jeering lilt: "Goodbye, Sir Roy, Goodbye, Sir Roy, I'll see you in my dreams...
...Christmas described in the opening pages to the streets of Dublin that could be swept by love and laughter or in the next moment by machine-gun bullets, Farrell captures the bittersweet agony of that time. Most of all he captures the strength of the Irish spirit and the lilt of Irish speech, not in rank dialect but in the kiss of the brogue. Farrell's lifework may well challenge Liam O'Flaherty's Famine as the national novel of Ireland...
Miss Collins, in white, appeared first, petite and stern, laughing yet intense. Aided by her guitar's subtle nuances, driving rhythms and vibrant lilt, she toyed with her audience for nearly an hour. She sang with them until they caught her playful spirit, then to them, then about them. She laughed with them at the cleverness of an Illinois coffeehouse, called Know Where, cried with them at the tragic death of Medgar Evers, cajoled them with a traditional devil song, caught them with a hammering message of the modern devil. "Masters...