| the waters of his thought? Ever thought of that hereticalist Marcon | 1 |
| and the two scissymaidies and how bulkily he shat the Ructions | 2 |
| gunorrhal? Ever hear of that foxy, that lupo and that monkax | 3 |
| and the virgin heir of the Morrisons, eh, blethering ape? | 4 |
| Malingerer in luxury, collector general, what has Your Low- | 5 |
| ness done in the mealtime with all the hamilkcars of cooked | 6 |
| vegetables, the hatfuls of stewed fruit, the suitcases of coddled | 7 |
| ales, the Parish funds, me schamer, man, that you kittycoaxed so | 8 |
| flexibly out of charitable butteries by yowling heavy with a | 9 |
| hollow voice drop of your horrible awful poverty of mind so as | 10 |
| you couldn't even pledge a crown of Thorne's to pawn a coat | 11 |
| off Trevi's and as how you was bad no end, so you was, so whelp | 12 |
| you Sinner Pitre and Sinner Poule, with the chicken's gape and | 13 |
| pas mal de siècle, which, by the by, Reynaldo, is the ordinary | 14 |
| emetic French for grenadier's drip. To let you have your plank | 15 |
| and your bonewash (O the hastroubles you lost!), to give you | 16 |
| your pound of platinum and a thousand thongs a year (O, you | 17 |
| were excruciated, in honour bound to the cross of your own | 18 |
| cruelfiction !) to let you have your Sarday spree and holinight sleep | 19 |
| (fame would come to you twixt a sleep and a wake) and leave to | 20 |
| lie till Paraskivee and the cockcock crows for Danmark. (O | 21 |
| Jonathan, your estomach!) The simian has no sentiment secre- | 22 |
| tions but weep cataracts for all me, Pain the Shamman! Oft in | 23 |
| the smelly night will they wallow for a clutch of the famished | 24 |
| hand, I say, them bearded jezabelles you hired to rob you, while | 25 |
| on your sodden straw impolitely you encored (Airish and naw- | 26 |
| boggaleesh!) those hornmade ivory dreams you reved of the | 27 |
| Ruth you called your companionate, a beauty from the bible, of | 28 |
| the flushpots of Euston and the hanging garments of Maryle- | 29 |
| bone. But the dormer moonshee smiled selene and the light- | 30 |
| throwers knickered: who's whinging we? Comport yourself, | 31 |
| you inconsistency! Where is that little alimony nestegg against | 32 |
| our predictable rainy day? Is it not the fact (gainsay me, cake- | 33 |
| eater!) that, while whistlewhirling your crazy elegies around | 34 |
| Templetombmount joyntstone, (let him pass, pleasegood- | 35 |
| jesusalem, in a bundle of straw, he was balbettised after hay- | 36 |