| Lowly, longly, a wail went forth. Pure Yawn lay low. On the | 1 |
| mead of the hillock lay, heartsoul dormant mid shadowed land- | 2 |
| shape, brief wallet to his side, and arm loose, by his staff of citron | 3 |
| briar, tradition stick-pass-on. His dream monologue was over, | 4 |
| of cause, but his drama parapolylogic had yet to be, affact. Most | 5 |
| distressfully (but, my dear, how successfully!) to wail he did, | 6 |
| his locks of a lucan tinge, quickrich, ripely rippling, unfilleted, | 7 |
| those lashbetasselled lids on the verge of closing time, whiles | 8 |
| ouze of his sidewiseopen mouth the breath of him, evenso | 9 |
| languishing as the princeliest treble treacle or lichee chewchow | 10 |
| purse could buy. Yawn in a semiswoon lay awailing and (hooh!) | 11 |
| what helpings of honeyful swoothead (phew!), which ear- | 12 |
| piercing dulcitude! As were you suppose to go and push with | 13 |
| your bluntblank pin in hand upinto his fleshasplush cushionettes | 14 |
| of some chubby boybold love of an angel. Hwoah! | 15 |
| When, as the buzzer brings the light brigade, keeping the | 16 |
| home fires burning, so on the churring call themselves came at | 17 |
| him, from the westborders of the eastmidlands, three kings of | 18 |
| three suits and a crowner, from all their cardinal parts, along | 19 |
| the amber way where Brosna's furzy. To lift them they did, | 20 |
| senators four, by the first quaint skreek of the gloaming and | 21 |
| they hopped it up the mountainy molehill, traversing climes | 22 |
| of old times gone by of the days not worth remembering; | 23 |
| inventing some excusethems, any sort, having a sevenply | 24 |