Booms of bombs and heavy rethudders? | 1 |
This aim to you! | 2 |
The tail, so mastrodantic, as you tell it nearly takes your | 3 |
| own mummouth's breath away. Your troppers are so unrelieved | 4 |
| because his troopers were in difficulties. Still let stultitiam done | 5 |
| in veino condone ineptias made of veritues. How many were | 6 |
| married on that top of all strapping mornings, after the midnight | 7 |
| turkay drive, my good watcher? | 8 |
Puppaps. That'd be telling. With a hoh frohim and heh | 9 |
| fraher. But, as regards to Tammy Thornycraft, Idefyne the lawn | 10 |
| mare and the laney moweress and all the prentisses of wildes to | 11 |
| massage him. | 12 |
Now from Gunner Shotland to Guinness Scenography. | 13 |
| Come to the ballay at the Tailors' Hall. We mean to be mellay on | 14 |
| the Mailers' Mall. And leap, rink and make follay till the Gaelers' | 15 |
| Gall. Awake! Come, a wake! Every old skin in the leather world, | 16 |
| infect the whole stock company of the old house of the Leaking | 17 |
| Barrel, was thomistically drunk, two by two, lairking o' tootlers | 18 |
| with tombours a'beggars, the blog and turfs and the brandywine | 19 |
| bankrompers, trou Normend fashion, I have been told down to | 20 |
| the bank lean clorks? Some nasty blunt clubs were being operated | 21 |
| after the tradition of a wellesleyan bottle riot act and a few plates | 22 |
| were being shied about and tumblers bearing traces of fresh | 23 |
| porter rolling around, independent of that, for the ehren of Fyn's | 24 |
| Insul, and then followed that wapping breakfast at the Heaven | 25 |
| and Covenant, with Rodey O'echolowing how his breadcost on | 26 |
| the voters would be a comeback for e'er a one, like the depre- | 27 |
| dations of Scandalknivery, in and on usedtowobble sloops off | 28 |
| cloasts, eh? Would that be a talltale too? This was the grandsire | 29 |
| Orther. This was his innwhite horse. Sip? | 30 |
Well, naturally he was, louties also genderymen. Being | 31 |
| Kerssfesstiydt. They came from all lands beyond the wave for | 32 |
| songs of Inishfeel. Whiskway and mortem! No puseyporcious | 33 |
| either, invitem kappines all round. But the right reverend priest, | 34 |
| Mr Hopsinbond, and the reverent bride eleft, Frizzy Fraufrau, | 35 |
| were sober enough. I think they were sober. | 36 |