| arose. Avis was there and trilled her about it. She's her sex, for | 1 |
| certain. So to celebrate the occasion: | 2 |
Willest thou rossy banders havind? | 3 |
| He simules to be tight in ribbings round his rumpffkorpff. | 4 |
Are you Swarthants that's hit on a shorn stile? | 5 |
| He makes semblant to be swiping their chimbleys. | 6 |
Can you ajew ajew fro' Sheidam? | 7 |
| He finges to be cutting up with a pair of sissers and to be buy- | 8 |
| tings of their maidens and spitting their heads into their facepails. | 9 |
| Spickspuk! Spoken. | 10 |
| So now be hushy, little pukers! Side here roohish, cleany fug- | 11 |
| lers! Grandicellies, all stay zitty! Adultereux, rest as befour! For | 12 |
| you've jollywelly dawdled all the day. When ye coif tantoncle's | 13 |
| hat then'll be largely temts for that. Yet's the time for being now, | 14 |
| now, now. | 15 |
| For a burning would is come to dance inane. Glamours hath | 16 |
| moidered's lieb and herefore Coldours must leap no more. Lack | 17 |
| breath must leap no more. | 18 |
| Lel lols for libelman libling his lore. Lolo Lolo liebermann you | 19 |
| loved to be leaving Libnius. Lift your right to your Liber Lord. | 20 |
| Link your left to your lass of liberty. Lala Lala, Leapermann, | 21 |
| your lep's but a loop to lee. | 22 |
| A fork of hazel o'er the field in vox the verveine virgins ode. | 23 |
| If you cross this rood as you roamed the rand I'm blessed but | 24 |
| you'd feel him a blasting rod. Behind, me, frees from evil smells! | 25 |
| Perdition stinks before us. | 26 |
| Aghatharept they fleurelly to Nebnos will and Rosocale. Twice | 27 |
| is he gone to quest of her, thrice is she now to him. So see we so | 28 |
| as seed we sow. And their prunktqueen kilt her kirtles up and | 29 |
| set out. And her troup came heeling, O. And what do you think | 30 |
| that pride was drest in! Voolykins' diamondinah's vestin. For ever | 31 |
| they scent where air she. went. While all the fauns' flares widens | 32 |
| wild to see a floral's school. | 33 |
| Led by Lignifer, in four hops of the happiest, ach beth cac duff, | 34 |
| a marrer of the sward incoronate, the few fly the farbetween! | 35 |
| We haul minymony on that piebold nig. Will any tubble dabble | 36 |