| me there title to where was a hovel not a havel (the first rattle of | 1 |
| his juniverse) with a tingtumtingling and a next, next and next | 2 |
| (gin a paddy? got a petty? gussies, gif it ope?), while itch ish | 3 |
| shome. | 4 |
| | 5 |
| Whereof in youthfood port I preyed | 6 |
| Amook the verdigrassy convict vallsall dazes. | 7 |
| And cloitered for amourmeant in thy boosome shede! | 8 |
| His mouthfull of ecstasy (for Shing-Yung-Thing in Shina from | 9 |
| Yoruyume across the Timor Sea), herepong (maladventure!) shot | 10 |
| pinging up through the errorooth of his wisdom (who thought | 11 |
| him a Fonar all, feastking of shellies by googling Lovvey, regally | 12 |
| freytherem, eagelly plumed, and wasbut gumboil owrithy prods | 13 |
| wretched some horsery megee plods coffin acid odarkery pluds | 14 |
| dense floppens mugurdy) as thought it had been zawhen intwo. | 15 |
| Wholly sanguish blooded up disconvulsing the fixtures of his | 16 |
| fizz. Apang which his tempory chewer med him a crazy chump | 17 |
| of a Haveajube Sillayass. Joshua Croesus, son of Nunn! Though | 18 |
| he shall live for millions of years a life of billions of years, from | 19 |
| their roseaced glows to their violast lustres, he shall not forget | 20 |
| that pucking Pugases. Holihowlsballs and bloody acres! Like | 21 |
| gnawthing unheardth! | 22 |
| But, by Jove Chronides, Seed of Summ, after at he had bate | 23 |
| his breastplates for, forforget, forforgetting his birdsplace, it was | 24 |
| soon that, that he, that he rehad himself. By a prayer? No, that | 25 |
| comes later. By contrite attrition? Nay, that we passed. Mid | 26 |
| esercizism? So is richt. | 27 |
| And it was so. And Malthos Moramor resumed his soul. With: | 28 |
| Go Ferchios off to Allad out of this! An oldsteinsong. He threwed | 29 |
| his fit up to his aers, rolled his poligone eyes, snivelled from his | 30 |
| snose and blew the guff out of his hornypipe. The hopjoimt jerk | 31 |
| of a ladle broom jig that he learned in locofoco when a redhot | 32 |
| turnspite he. Under reign of old Roastin the Bowl Ratskillers, | 33 |
| readyos! Why was that man for he's doin her wrong! Lookery | 34 |
| looks, how he's knots in his entrails! Mookery mooks, it's a | 35 |
| grippe of his gripes. Seekeryseeks, why his biting he's head off? | 36 |