1 Muckross Abbey with the creepers taken off.
2 Joke and Jilt will have their tilt.
3 Old Mamalujorum and Rawrogerum.
4 Why have these puerile blonds those large flexible ears?
5 Pomeroy Roche of Portobello, or the Wreck of the Ragamuffin.
6 No wonder Miss Dotsh took to veils and she descended from that obloquohy.
7 The bookley with the rusin’s hat is Patomkin but I’m blowed if I knowed who the slave is doing behind the curtain. One and Only, Unic bar None, of Saint Yves by Landsend cornwer, man — ship me silver!, it must have been, faw! a terrible mavrue mavone, to synamite up the old Adam-he-used-to, such a finalley, and that’s flat as Tut’s fut, for whowghowho? the poour girl, a lonely peggy, given the bird, so inseuladed as Crampton’s peartree, (she sall eurn bitter bed by thirt sweet of her face !), and short wonder so many of the tomthick and tarry members in all there subsequious ages of our timocracy tipped to console with her at her mirrorable gracewindow’d hut 1 till the ives of Man, the O’Kneels and the O’Prayins and the O’Hyens of Lochlaunstown and the O’Hollerins of Staneybatter, hollyboys, all, burryripe who’ll buy?, 2 in juwelietry and kickychoses and madornaments and that’s not the finis of it (would it were!) — but to think of him foundling a nelliza the second, 3 also cliptbuss (the best was still there if the torso was gone) where he did and when he did, retriever to the last 4 — escapes my forgetness now was it dustcovered, nom de Lieu ! on lapse or street ondown, through, for or from a foe, by with as on a friend, at the Rectory? Vicarage Road? Bishop’s Folly? Papesthorpe?, after picket fences, stonewalls, out and ins or oxers — for merry a valsehood whisprit he to manny a lilying earling; 5 and to try to analyse that ambo’s pair of braceleans akwart the rollyon trying to amarm all 6 of that miching micher’s bearded but insensible virility and its gaulish moustaches, Dammad and Groany, into her limited (tuff, tuff, que tu es pitre !) lapse at the same slapse for towelling ends 7 in their dolightful Sexsex home, Somehow-at-Sea (O little oily head, sloper’s brow and prickled ears !) as though he, a notoriety, a foist edition, were a wrigular writher neonovene babe! 8 — well, diarmuee and
1 O hce! O hce!
2 Six and seven the League.
3 It’s all round me hat I’ll wear a drooping dido.
4 Have you ever thought of a hitching your stern and being ourdeaned, Mester Bootenfly, here’s me and Myrtle is twinkling to know.
5 To show they caught preferment.
6 See the freeman’s cuticatura by Fennella.
7 Just one big booty’s pot.
8 Charles de Simples had an infirmierity complexe before he died a natural death. granyou and Vae Vinctis, that is what lamoor that of gentle breast rathe is intaken seems circling toward out yondest (it’s life that’s all chokered by that batch of grim rushers) heaven help his hindmost and, mark mo, if the so greatly displeaced diorems in the Saint Lubbock’s Day number of that most improving of roundshows, Spice and Westend Woman (utterly exhausted before publication, indiapepper edition shortly), are for our indices, it agins to pear like it,par my fay,and there is no use for your pastripreaching for to cheesse it either or praying fresh fleshblood claspers of young catholick throats on Huggin Green 1 to take warning by the prispast, why?, by cows . man, in shirt, is how he is pi— la gonna Š mobile and þ they wonet do ut; and, an you could peep inside the cerebralised saucepan of this eer illwinded goodfornobody, you would see in his house of thoughtsam (was you, that is, decontaminated enough to look discarnate) what a jetsam litterage of convolvuli of times lost or strayed, of lands derelict and of tongues laggin too, longa yamsayore, not only that but, search lighting, beached, bashed and beaushelled a la Mer pharahead into faturity, your own convolvulis pickninnig capman would real to jazztfancy the novo takin place of what stale words whilom were woven with and fitted fairly featly for, so; and equally so, the crame of the whole faustian fustian, whether your launer’s lightsome or your soulard’s schwearmood, it is that, whenas the swiftshut scareyss of our pupilteachertaut duplex will hark back to lark to you symibellically that, though a day be as dense as a decade, no mouth has the might to set a mearbound to the march of a landsmaul, 2 in half a sylb, helf a solb, holf a salb onward 3 the beast of boredom, common sense, lurking gyrographically down inside his loose Eating S.S. collar is gogoing of whisth to you sternly how — Plutonic loveliaks twinnt Platonic yearlings — you must, how, in undivided reawlity draw the line somewhawre)
1 Where Buickly of the Glass and Bellows pumped the Rudge engineral.
2 Matter of Brettaine and brut fierce.
3 Bussmullah, cried Lord Wolsley, how me Aunty Mag’ll row!
Coss? Cossist? Your parn! You, you make what name? (and in truth, as a poor soul is between shift and shift ere the teath he has lived through becomes the life he is to die into, he or he had albut — he was rickets as to reasons but the balance of his minds was stables — lost himself or himself some somnione sciupiones, soswhitchoverswetch had he or he gazet, murphy come, murphy go, murphy plant, murphy grow, a maryamyriameliamurphies, in the lazily eye of his lapis, Vieus Von DVbLIn, ’twas one of dozedeams a darkies ding in dewood) the Turnpike under the Great Ulm (with Mearingstone in Fore ground). 1 Given now ann linch you take enn all. Allow me! And, heaving alljawbreakical expressions out of old Sare Isaac’s 2 universal of specious aristmystic unsaid, A is for Anna like L is for liv. Aha hahah, Ante Ann you’re apt to ape aunty annalive! Dawn gives rise. Lo, lo, lives love! Eve takes fall. La, la, laugh leaves alass! Aiaiaiai, Antiann, we’re last to the lost, Loulou! Tis perfect. Now (lens Uteralterance or the Interplay of Bones in the Womb. The Vortex. Spring of Sprung Verse. The Ver tex. WHY MY AS LIKEWISE WHIS HIS.
1 Draumcondra’s Dream country where the betterlies blow.
2 O, Laughing Sally, are we going to be toadhauntered by that old Pantifox
Sir Somebody Something, Burtt, for the rest of our secret stripture? your dappled yeye here, mine’s presbyoperian, shill and wall) we see the copyngink strayedline AL (in Fig., the forest) from being continued, stops ait Lambday:1 Modder ilond there too. Allow me anchore! I bring down noth and carry awe. Now, then, take this in! One of the most murmurable loose carollaries ever Ellis threw his cookingclass. With Olaf as centrum and Olaf’s lambtail for his spokesman circumscript a cyclone. Allow ter! Hoop ! As round as the calf of an egg! O, dear me! O, dear me now! Another grand discobely! After Makefearsome’s Ocean. You’ve actuary entducked one! Quok! Why, you haven’t a passer! Fantastic! Early’ clever, surely doomed, to Swift’s, alas, the galehus! Match of a matchness, like your Bigdud dadder in the boudeville song, Gorotsky Gollovar’s Troubles, raucking his flavourite turvku in the smukking precincts of lydias,2 with Mary Owens and Dolly Monks seesidling to edge his cropulence and Blake-Roche, Kingston and Dockrell auriscenting him from afurz, our papacocopotl, 3 Abraham Bradley King? (ting ting! ting ting!) By his magmasine fall. Lumps, lavas and all.4 Bene! But, thunder and turf, it’s not alover yet! One recalls Byzantium. The mystery repeats itself todate as our callback mother Gaudyanna, that was daughter to a tanner, 5 used to sing, as I think, now and then consinuously over her possetpot in her quer Sarga, or the path of outgoing. Docetism and Didicism, Maya Thaya. Tamas Rajas-Sattvas.
1 Ex jup pep off Carpenger Strate. The kids’ and dolls’ home. Makeacake
ache.
2 A vagrant need is a flagrant weed.
3 Grand for blowing off steam when you walk up in the morning.
4 At the foot of Bagnabun Banbasday was lost on one
5 We’re all found of our anmal matter. homolocous humminbass hesterdie and istherdie forivor. 1 Vanissas Vanistatums! And for a night of thoughtsendyures and a day. As Great Shapesphere puns it. In effect, I remumble, from the yules gone by, purr lil murrerof myhind, so she used indeed. When she give me the Sundaclouths she hung up for Tate and Comyng and snuffed out the ghost in the candle at his old game of haunt the sleepper. Faithful departed. When I’m dreaming back like that I begins to see we’re only all telescopes. Or the comeallyoum saunds. Like when I dromed I was in Dairy and was wuckened up with thump in thudderdown. Rest in peace ! But to return. 2 What a wonderful
