Killed two of my best milk cows, the poor dumb brutes.

The poor, ignorant brutes, I thought, and wondered who, or what, had so enslaved them.

As it was, the poor brutes were so tired that some of them could scarcely eat, and all lay down at the first opportunity.

Their mothers like them, of course, have to-or the poor little brutes would never get looked after, or grow up.

Together we will study dancing, too, and a sort of history more accurate than that fed you poor brutes at your school.

The poor brutes were so clumsy in their weakness and haste.

Do you know, I almost sympathise with the poor brutes.

The poor brutes are thin as rails, and haven't half their strength.

Otherwise the poor brutes would die of their own fury.

We are not a military, like these poor brutes up here.