| night for my lifting. Hillyhollow, valleylow! With the sounds | 1 |
| and the scents in the morning. | 2 |
I shot be shoddied, throttle me, fine me cowheel for ever, | 3 |
| usquebauched the ersewild aleconner, for bringing briars to Bem- | 4 |
| bracken and ringing rinbus round Demetrius for, as you wrinkle | 5 |
| wryghtly, bully bluedomer, it's a suirsite's stircus haunting hes- | 6 |
| teries round old volcanoes. We gin too gnir and thus plinary | 7 |
| indulgence makes collemullas of us all. But Time is for talerman | 8 |
| tasting his tap. Tiptoptap, Mister Maut. | 9 |
| He made one summery (Cholk and murble in lonestime) of his | 10 |
| the three swallows like he was muzzling Moselems and torched | 11 |
| up as the faery pangeant fluwed down the hisophenguts, a slake | 12 |
| for the quicklining, to the tickle of his tube and the twobble of | 13 |
| his fable, O, fibbing once upon a spray what a queer and queasy | 14 |
| spree it was. Plumped. | 15 |
| Which both did. Prompt. Eh, chrystal holder? Save Ampster- | 16 |
| dampster that had rheumaniscences in his netherlumbs. | 17 |
By the drope in his groin, Ali Slupa, thinks the cappon, | 18 |
| plumbing his liners, we were heretofore. | 19 |
And be the coop of his gobbos, Reacher the Thaurd, thinks | 20 |
| your girth fatter, apopo of his buckseaseilers, but where's Horace's | 21 |
| courtin troopsers? | 22 |
I put hem behind the oasthouse, sagd Pukkelsen, tuning | 23 |
| wound on the teller, appeased to the cue, that double dyode | 24 |
| dealered, and he's wallowing awash swill of the Tarra water. And | 25 |
| it marinned down his gargantast trombsathletic like the marousers of | 26 |
| the gulpstroom. The kersse of Wolafs on him, shitateyar, he sagd in | 27 |
| the fornicular, and, at weare or not at weare, I'm sigen no stretcher, | 28 |
| for I carsed his murhersson goat in trotthers with them newbuckle- | 29 |
| noosers behigh in the fire behame in the oasthouse. Hops! sagd he. | 30 |
Smoke and coke choke! lauffed till the tear trickled drown a | 31 |
| thigh the loafers all but a sheep's whosepants that swished to the | 32 |
| lord he hadn't and the starer his story was talled to who felt that, | 33 |
| the fierifornax being thurst on him motophosically, as Omar | 34 |
| sometime notes, such a satuation, debauchly to be watched for, | 35 |
| would empty dempty him down to the ground. | 36 |