| queering his shoolthers. So was I. And as I was cleansing my | 1 |
| fausties. So was he. And as way ware puffiing our blowbags. | 2 |
| Souwouyou. | 3 |
| Come, thrust! Go, parry! Dvoinabrathran, dare. The mad | 4 |
| long ramp of manchind's parlements, the learned lacklearning, | 5 |
| merciless as wonderful. | 6 |
Now may Saint Mowy of the Pleasant Grin be your ever- | 7 |
| glass and even prospect! | 8 |
Feeling dank. | 9 |
| Exchange, reverse. | 10 |
And may Saint Jerome of the Harlots' Curse make family | 11 |
| three of you which is much abedder! | 12 |
Grassy ass ago. | 13 |
| And each was wrought with his other. And his continence fell. | 14 |
| The bivitellines, Metellus and Ametallikos, her crown pretenders, | 15 |
| obscindgemeinded biekerers, varying directly, uruseye each oxes- | 16 |
| other, superfetated (never cleaner of lamps frowned fiercelier on | 17 |
| anointer of hinges), while their treegrown girls, king's game, if | 18 |
| he deign so, are in such transfusion just to know twigst timidy | 19 |
| twomeys, for gracious sake, who is artthoudux from whose | 20 |
| heterotropic, the sleepy or the glouch, for, shyly bawn and | 21 |
| showly nursured,exceedingly nice girls can strike exceedingly | 22 |
| bad times unless so richtly chosen's by (what though of riches | 23 |
| he have none and hope dashes hope on his heart's horizon) to gar | 24 |
| their great moments greater. The thing is he must be put strait | 25 |
| on the spot, no mere waterstichystuff in a selfmade world that | 26 |
| you can't believe a word he's written in, not for pie, but one's | 27 |
| only owned by naturel rejection. Charley, you're my darwing! | 28 |
| So sing they sequent the assent of man. Till they go round if | 29 |
| they go roundagain before breakparts and all dismissed. They | 30 |
| keep. Step keep. Step. Stop. Who is Fleur? Where is Ange? Or | 31 |
| Gardoun? | 32 |
| Creedless, croonless hangs his haughty. There end no moe red | 33 |
| devil in the white of his eye. Braglodyte him do a katadupe! A con- | 34 |
| damn quondam jontom sick af a suckbut! He does not know how | 35 |
| his grandson's grandson's grandson's grandson will stammer up | 36 |