riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by
a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, fr'over the short sea, had passencore rearrived
from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to
wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer's rocks by the stream Oconee
exaggerated themselse to Laurens County's gorgios while they went doublin their
mumper all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf
thuartpeatrick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland
old isaac: not yet, though all's fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with
twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight
and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
The fall
(bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!)
of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down
through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such
short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead
of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his
tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park
where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since devlinsfirst loved
livvy.
What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishygods! Brekkek
Kekkek Kekkek Kekkek! Koax Koax Koax! Ualu Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the
Baddelaries partisans are still out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the
Verdons catapelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie Head.
Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod's brood, be me fear! Sanglorians, save! Arms
apeal with larms, appalling. Killykillkilly: a toll, a toll. What chance
cuddleys, what cashels aired and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what
tegotetabsolvers! What true feeling for their's hayair with what strawng voice
of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the father of
fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath fanespanned most
high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were
sewers? The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay.
Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce
for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.
Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen's maurer, lived in the
broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofarback for messuages before joshuan
judges had given us numbers or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday
he sternely struxk his tete in a tub for to watsch the future of his fates but
ere he swiftly stook it out again, by the might of moses, the very water was
eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus so that ought to show you
what a pentschanjeuchy chap he was!) and during mighty odd years this man of
hod, cement and edifices in Toper's Thorp piled buildung supra buildung pon the
banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the
little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part inher. Oftwhile
balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls
which he habitacularly fondseed, like Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would
caligulate by multiplicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by
neatlight of the liquor wheretwin 'twas born, his roundhead staple of other days
to rise in undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape
of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and
celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitectitiptitoploftical, with a burning
bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o'toolers clittering up and tombles
a'buckets clottering down.
Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of
Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant, argent,
a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers
strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe.
Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you're going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O,
you're vine! Sendday's eve and, ah, you're vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn,
you're going to be fined again!
What then agentlike brought about that tragoady thundersday this municipal sin
business? Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the thunder of his arafatas
but we hear also through successive ages that shebby choruysh of unkalified
muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise the whitestone ever hurtleturtled
out of heaven. Stay us wherefore in our search for tighteousness, O Sustainer,
what time we rise and when we take up to toothmick and before we lump down upown
our leatherbed and in the night and at the fading of the stars ! For a nod to
the nabir is better than wink to the wabsanti. Otherways wesways like that
provost scoffing bedoueen the jebel and the jpysian sea. Cropherb the
crunchbracken shall decide. Then we'll know if the feast is a flyday. She has a
gift of seek on site and she allcasually ansars helpers, the dreamydeary. Heed!
Heed ! It may half been a missfired brick, as some say, or it mought have been
due to a collupsus of his back promises, as others looked at it. (There extand
by now one thousand and one stories, all told, of the same). But so sore did abe
ite ivvy's holired abbles, (what with the wallhall's horrors of rollsrights,
carhacks, stonengens, kisstvanes, tramtrees, fargobawlers, autokinotons,
hippohobbilies, streetfleets, tournintaxes, megaphoggs, circuses and wardsmoats
and basilikerks and aeropagods and the hoyse and the jollybrool and the peeler
in the coat and the mecklenburk bitch bite at his ear and the merlinburrow
burrocks and his fore old porecourts, the bore the more, and his blightblack
workingstacks at twelvepins a dozen and the noobibusses sleighding along
Safetyfirst Street and the derryjellybies snooping around Tell-No-Tailors'
Corner and the fumes and the hopes and the strupithump of his ville's indigenous
romekeepers, homesweepers, domecreepers, thurum and thurum in fancymud murumd
and all the uproor from all the aufroofs, a roof for may and a reef for hugh
butt under his bridge suits tony) wan warning Phill filt tippling full. His howd
feeled heavy, his hoddit did shake. (There was a wall of course in erection)
Dimb! He stottered from the latter. Damb! he was dud. Dumb! Mastabatoom,
mastabadtomm, when a mon merries his lute is all long. For whole the world to
see.
Shize? I should shee! Macool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie? of a trying
thirstay mournin? Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's chrissormiss wake, all the
hoolivans of the nation, prostrated in their consternation and their
duodisimally profusive plethora of ululation. There was plumbs and grumes and
cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too. And the all gianed in with
the shoutmost shoviality. Agog and magog and the round of them agrog. To the
continuation of that celebration until Hanandhunigan's extermination! Some in
kinkin corass, more, kankan keening. Belling him up and filling him down. He's
stiff but he's steady is Priam Olim ! 'Twas he was the dacent gaylabouring
youth. Sharpen his pillowscone, tap up his bier! E'erawhere in this whorl would
ye hear sich a din again? With their deepbrow fundigs and the dusty fidelios.
They laid him brawdawn alanglast bed. With a bockalips of finisky fore his feet.
And a barrowload of guenesis hoer his head. Tee the tootal of the fluid hang the
twoddle of the fuddled, O !
Hurrah, there is but young gleve for the owl globe wheels in view which is
tautaulogically the same thing. Well, Him a being so on the flounder of his bulk
like an overgrown babeling, let wee peep, see, at Hom, well, see peegee ought he
ought, platterplate. Hum ! From Shopalist to Bailywick or from ashtun to
baronoath or from Buythebanks to Roundthehead or from the foot of the bill to
ireglint's eye he calmly extensolies. And all the way (a horn!) from fiord to
fjell his baywinds' oboboes shall wail him rockbound (hoahoahoah!) in
swimswamswum and all the livvylong night, the delldale dalppling night, the
night of bluerybells, her flittaflute in tricky trochees (O carina! O carina!)
wake him. With her issavan essavans and her patterjackmartins about all them
inns and ouses. Tilling a teel of a tum, telling a toll of a teary turty
Taubling. Grace before Glutton. For what we are, gifs a gross if we are, about
to believe. So pool the begg and pass the kish for crawsake. Omen. So sigh us.
Grampupus is fallen down but grinny sprids the boord. Whase on the joint of a
desh? Finfoefom the Fush. Whase be his baken head? A loaf of Singpantry's
Kennedy bread. And whase hitched to the hop in his tayle? A glass of Danu
U'Dunnell's foamous olde Dobbelin ayle. But, lo, as you would quaffoff his
fraudstuff and sink teeth through that pyth of a flowerwhite bodey behold of him
as behemoth for he is noewhemoe. Finiche! Only a fadograph of a yestern scene.
Almost rubicund Salmosalar, ancient fromout the ages of the Agapemonides, he is
smolten in our mist, woebecanned and packt away. So that meal's dead off for
summan, schlook, schlice and goodridhirring.
Yet may we not see still the brontoichthyan form outlined aslumbered, even in
our own nighttime by the sedge of the troutling stream that Bronto loved and
Brunto has a lean on. Hic cubat edilis. Apud libertinam parvulam. Whatif she be
in flags or flitters, reekierags or sundyechosies, with a mint of mines or
beggar a pinnyweight. Arrah, sure, we all love little Anny Ruiny, or, we mean to
say, lovelittle Anna Rayiny, when unda her brella, mid piddle med puddle, she
ninnygoes nannygoes nancing by. Yoh! Brontolone slaaps, yoh snoores. Upon Benn
Heather, in Seeple Isout too. The cranic head on him, caster of his reasons,
peer yuthner in yondmist. Whooth? His clay feet, swarded in verdigrass, stick up
starck where he last fellonem, by the mund of the magazine wall, where our maggy
seen all, with her sisterin shawl. While over against this belles' alliance
beyind Ill Sixty, ollollowed ill! bagsides of the fort, bom, tarabom, tarabom,
lurk the ombushes, the site of the lyffing-in-wait of the upjock and hockums.
Hence when the clouds roll by, jamey, a proudseye view is enjoyable of our
mounding's mass, now Wallinstone national museum, with, in some greenish
distance, the charmful waterloose country and the two quitewhite villagettes who
hear show of themselves so gigglesomes minxt the follyages, the prettilees!
Penetrators are permitted into the museomound free. Welsh and the Paddy
Patkinses, one shelenk! Redismembers invalids of old guard find poussepousse
pousseypram to sate the sort of their butt. For her passkey supply to the
janitrix, the mistress Kathe. Tip.
This the way to the museyroom. Mind your hats goan in! Now yiz are in the
Willingdone Museyroom. This is a Prooshious gunn. This is a ffrinch. Tip. This
is the flag of the Prooshious, the Cap and Soracer. This is the bullet that byng
the flag of the Prooshious. This is the ffrinch that fire on the Bull that bang
the flag of the Prooshious. Saloos the Crossgunn! Up with your pike and fork!
Tip. (Bullsfoot! Fine!) This is the triplewon hat of Lipoleum. Tip. Lipoleumhat.
This is the Willingdone on his same white harse, the Cokenhape. This is the big
Sraughter Willingdone, grand and magentic in his goldtin spurs and his ironed
dux and his quarterbrass woodyshoes and his magnate's gharters and his bangkok's
best and goliar's goloshes and his pulluponeasyan wartrews. This is his big wide
harse. Tip. This is the three lipoleum boyne grouching down in the living detch.
This is an inimyskilling inglis, this is a scotcher grey, this is a davy,
stooping. This is the bog lipoleum mordering the lipoleum beg. A Gallawghurs
argaumunt. This is the petty lipoleum boy that was nayther bag nor bug. Assaye,
assaye! Touchole Fitz Tuomush. Dirty MacDyke. And Hairy O'Hurry. All of them
arminus-varminus. This is Delian alps. This is Mont Tivel, this is Mont Tipsey,
this is the Grand Mons Injun. This is the crimealine of the alps hooping to
sheltershock the three lipoleums. This is the jinnies with their legahorns
feinting to read in their handmade's book of stralegy while making their war
undisides the Willingdone. The jinnies is a cooin her hand and the jinnies is a
ravin her hair and the Willingdone git the band up. This is big Willingdone
mormorial tallowscoop Wounderworker obscides on the flanks of the jinnies.
Sexcaliber hrosspower. Tip. This is me Belchum sneaking his phillippy out of his
most Awful Grimmest Sunshat Cromwelly. Looted. This is the jinnies' hastings
dispatch for to irrigate the Willingdone. Dispatch in thin red lines cross the
shortfront of me Belchum. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Leaper Orthor. Fear siecken! Fieldgaze
thy tiny frow. Hugacting. Nap. That was the tictacs of the jinnies for to
fontannoy the Willingdone. Shee, shee, shee! The jinnies is jillous agincourting
all the lipoleums. And the lipoleums is gonn boycottoncrezy onto the one
Willingdone. And the Willingdone git the band up. This is bode Belchum, bonnet
to busby, breaking his secred word with a ball up his ear to the Willingdone.
This is the Willingdone's hurold dispitchback. Dispitch desployed on the regions
rare of me Belchum. Salamangra! Ayi, ayi, ayi! Cherry jinnies. Figtreeyou! Damn
fairy ann, Voutre. Willingdone. That was the first joke of Willingdone, tic for
tac. Hee, hee, hee! This is me Belchum in his twelvemile cowchooks, weet, tweet
and stampforth foremost, footing the camp for the jinnies. Drink a sip,
drankasup, for he's as sooner buy a guinness than he'd stale store stout. This
is Rooshious balls. This is a ttrinch. This is mistletropes. This is Canon
Futter with the popynose. After his hundred days' indulgence. This is the
blessed. Tarra's widdars! This is jinnies in the bonny bawn blooches. This is
lipoleums in the rowdy howses. This is the Willingdone, by the splinters of
Cork, order fire. Tonnerre! (Bullsear! Play!) This is camelry, this is floodens,
this is the solphereens in action, this is their mobbily, this is panickburns.
Almeidagad! Arthiz too loose! This is Willingdone cry. Brum! Brum! Cumbrum! This
is jinnies cry. Underwetter! Goat strip Finnlambs! This is jinnies rinning away
to their ousterlists dowan a bunkersheels. With a nip nippy nip and a trip
trippy trip so airy. For their heart's right there. Tip. This is me Belchum's
tinkyou tankyou silvoor plate for citchin the crapes in the cool of his
canister. Poor the pay! This is the bissmark of the marathon merry of the
jinnies they left behind them. This is the Willingdone branlish his same
marmorial tallowscoop SophyKey-Po for his royal divorsion on the rinnaway
jinnies. Gambariste della porca! Dalaveras fimmieras! This is the pettiest of
the lipoleums, Toffeethief, that spy on the Willingdone from his big white
harse, the Capeinhope. Stonewall Willingdone is an old maxy montrumeny.
Lipoleums is nice hung bushellors. This is hiena hinnessy laughing alout at the
Willingdone. This is lipsyg dooley krieging the funk from the hinnessy. This is
the hinndoo Shimar Shin between the dooley boy and the hinnessy. Tip. This is
the wixy old Willingdone picket up the half of the threefoiled hat of lipoleums
fromoud of the bluddle filth. This is the hinndoo waxing ranjymad for a
bombshoob. This is the Willingdone hanking the half of the hat of lipoleums up
the tail on the buckside of his big white harse. Tip. That was the last joke of
Willingdone. Hit, hit, hit! This is the same white harse of the Willingdone,
Culpenhelp, waggling his tailoscrupp with the half of a hat of lipoleums to
insoult on the hinndoo seeboy. Hney, hney, hney! (Bullsrag! Foul!) This is the
seeboy, madrashattaras, upjump and pumpim, cry to the Willingdone: Ap Pukkaru!
Pukka Yurap! This is the Willingdone, bornstable ghentleman, tinders his
maxbotch to the cursigan Shimar Shin. Basucker youstead! This is the dooforhim
seeboy blow the whole of the half of the hat of lipoleums off of the top of the
tail on the back of his big wide harse. Tip (Bullseye! Game!) How Copenhagen
ended. This way the museyroom. Mind your boots goan out.
Phew!
What a warm time we were in there but how keling is here the airabouts! We
nowhere she lives but you mussna tell annaone for the lamp of Jig-a-Lanthern!
It's a candlelittle houthse of a month and one windies. Downadown, High
Downadown. And nummered quaintlymine. And such reasonable weather too ! The
wagrant wind's awalt'zaround the piltdowns and on every blasted knollyrock (if
you can spot fifty I spy four more) there's that gnarlybird ygathering, a
runalittle, doalittle, preealittle, pouralittle, wipealittle,
kicksalittle,severalittle,eatalittle,whinealittle,kenalittle,
helfalittle,pelfalittle gnarlybird. A verytableland of bleakbardfields! Under
his seven wrothschields lies one, Lumproar. His glav toside him. Skud ontorsed.
Our pigeons pair are flewn for northcliffs. The three of crows have flapped it
southenly, kraaking of de baccle to the kvarters of that sky whence triboos
answer; Wail, 'tis well! She niver comes out when Thon's on shower or when
Thon's flash with his Nixy girls or when Thon's blowing toomcracks down the
gaels of Thon. No nubo no! Neblas on you liv! Her would be too moochy afreet. Of
Burymeleg and Bindmerollingeyes and all the deed in the woe. Fe fo fom! She jist
does hopes till byes will be byes. Here, and it goes on to appear now, she
comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peri potmother, a pringlpik in the
ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a
flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here,
pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy. But it's the armitides toonigh,
militopucos, and toomourn we wish for a muddy kissmans to the minutia workers
and there's to be a gorgeups truce for happinest childher everwere. Come nebo me
and suso sing the day we sallybright. She's burrowed the coacher's headlight the
better to pry (who goes cute goes siocur and shoos aroun) and all spoiled goods
go into her nabsack: curtrages and rattlin buttins, nappy spattees and flasks of
all nations, clavicures and scampulars, maps, keys and woodpiles of haypennies
and moonled brooches with bloodstaned breeks in em, boaston nightgarters and
masses of shoesets and nickelly nacks and foder allmicheal and a lugly parson of
cates and howitzer muchears and midgers and maggets, ills and ells with loffs of
toffs and pleures of bells and the last sigh that come fro the hart (bucklied!)
and the fairest sin the sunsaw (that's cearc!). With Kiss. Kiss Criss. Cross
Criss. Kiss Cross. Undo lives 'end. Slain.
How bootifull and how truetowife of her, when strengly forebidden, to steal our
historic presents from the past postpropheticals so as to will make us all lordy
heirs and ladymaidesses of a pretty nice kettle of fruit. She is livving in our
midst of debt and laffing through all plores for us (her birth is
uncontrollable), with a naperon for her mask and her sabboes kickin arias (so
sair! so solly!) if yous ask me and I saack you. Hou! Hou! Gricks may rise and
Troysirs fall (there being two sights for ever a picture) for in the byways of
high improvidence that's what makes lifework leaving and the world's a cell for
citters to cit in. Let young wimman run away with the story and let young min
talk smooth behind the butteler's back. She knows her knight's duty while Luntum
sleeps. Did ye save any tin? says he. Did I what? with a grin says she. And we
all like a marriedann because she is mercenary. Though the length of the land
lies under liquidation (floote!) and there's nare a hairbrow nor an eyebush on
this glaubrous phace of Herrschuft Whatarwelter she'll loan a vesta and hire
some peat and sarch the shores her cockles to heat and she'll do all a turfwoman
can to piff the business on. Paff. To puff the blaziness on. Poffpoff. And even
if Humpty shell fall frumpty times as awkward again in the beardsboosoloom of
all our grand remonstrancers there'll be iggs for the brekkers come to mournhim,
sunny side up with care. So true is it that therewhere's a turnover the tay is
wet too and when you think you ketch sight of a hind make sure but you're cocked
by a hin.
Then as she is on her behaviourite job of quainance bandy, fruting for
firstlings and taking her tithe, we may take our review of the two mounds to see
nothing of the himples here as at elsewhere, by sixes and sevens, like so many
heegills and collines, sitton aroont, scentbreeched ant somepotreek, in their
swishawish satins and their taffetaffe tights, playing Wharton's Folly, at a
treepurty on the planko in the purk. Stand up, mickos! Make strake for minnas !
By order, Nicholas Proud. We may see and hear nothing if we choose of the
shortlegged bergins off Corkhill or the bergamoors of Arbourhill or the
bergagambols of Summerhill or the bergincellies of Miseryhill or the
countrybossed bergones of Constitutionhill though every crowd has its several
tones and every trade has its clever mechanics and each harmonical has a point
of its own, Olaf's on the rise and Ivor's on the lift and Sitric's place's
between them. But all they are all there scraping along to sneeze out a
likelihood that will solve and salve life's robulous rebus, hopping round his
middle like kippers on a griddle, O, as he lays dormont from the macroborg of
Holdhard to the microbirg of Pied de Poudre. Behove this sound of Irish sense.
Really? Here English might be seen. Royally? One sovereign punned to petery
pence. Regally? The silence speaks the scene. Fake!
So This Is Dyoublong?
Hush! Caution ! Echoland !
How charmingly exquisite! It reminds you of the outwashed engravure that we used
to be blurring on the blotchwall of his innkempt house. Used they? (I am sure
that tiring chabelshoveller with the mujikal chocolat box, Miry Mitchel, is
listening) I say, the remains of the outworn gravemure where used to be blurried
the Ptollmens of the Incabus. Used we? (He is only pretendant to be stugging at
the jubalee harp from a second existed lishener, Fiery Farrelly.) It is well
known. Lokk for himself and see the old butte new. Dbln. W. K. O. O. Hear? By
the mausolime wall. Fimfim fimfim. With a grand funferall. Fumfum fumfum. 'Tis
optophone which ontophanes. List! Wheatstone's magic lyer. They will be tuggling
foriver. They will be lichening for allof. They will be pretumbling forover. The
harpsdischord shall be theirs for ollaves.
Four things therefore, saith our herodotary Mammon Lujius in his grand old
historiorum, wrote near Boriorum, bluest book in baile's annals, f t. in
Dyffinarsky ne'er sall fail til heathersmoke and cloudweed Eire's ile sall pall.
And here now they are,the fear of um. T. Totities! Unum. (Adar.) A bulbenboss
surmounted upon an alderman. Ay, ay! Duum. (Nizam.) A shoe on a puir old wobban.
Ah, ho! Triom. (Tamuz.) An auburn mayde, o'brine a'bride, to be desarted. Adear,
adear! Quodlibus. (Marchessvan.) A penn no weightier nor a polepost. And so. And
all. (Succoth.)
So, how idlers' wind turning pages on pages, as innocens with anaclete play
popeye antipop, the leaves of the living in the boke of the deeds, annals of
themselves timing the cycles of events grand and national, bring fassilwise to
pass how.
II32 A.D. Men like to ants or emmets wondern upon a groot hwide Whallfisk which
lay in a Runnel. Blubby wares upat Ublanium.
566 A.D. On Baalfire's night of this year after deluge a crone that hadde a
wickered Kish for to hale dead tunes from the bog lookit under the blay of her
Kish as she ran for to sothisfeige her cowrieosity and be me sawl but she found
hersell sackvulle of swart goody quickenshoon ant small illigant brogues, so
rich in sweat. Blurry works at Hurdlesford.
(Silent.)
566 A.D. At this time it fell out that a brazenlockt damsel grieved
(sobralasolas!) because that Puppette her minion was ravisht-of her by the ogre
Puropeus Pious. Bloody wars in Ballyaughacleeaghbally.
II32. A.D. Two sons at an hour were born until a goodman and his hag. These sons
called themselves Caddy and Primas. Primas was a santryman and drilled all
decent people. Caddy went to Winehouse and wrote o peace a farce. Blotty words
for Dublin.
Somewhere, parently, in the ginnandgo gap between antediluvious and annadominant
the copyist must have fled with his scroll. The billy flood rose or an elk
charged him or the sultrup worldwright from the excelsissimost empyrean (bolt,
in sum) earthspake or the Dannamen gallous banged pan the bliddy duran. A
scribicide then and there is led off under old's code with some fine covered by
six marks or ninepins in metalmen for the sake of his labour's dross while it
will be only now and again in our rear of o'er era, as an upshoot of military
and civil engagements, that a gynecure was let on to the scuffold for taking
that same fine sum covertly by meddlement with the drawers of his neighbour's
safe.
Now after all that farfatch'd and peragrine or dingnant or clere lift we our
ears, eyes of the darkness, from the tome of Liber Lividus and, (toh!), how
paisibly eirenical, all dimmering dunes and gloamering glades, selfstretches
afore us our fredeland's plain! Lean neath stone pine the pastor lies with his
crook; young pricket by pricket's sister nibbleth on returned viridities; amaid
her rocking grasses the herb trinity shams lowliness; skyup is of evergrey.
Thus, too, for donkey's years. Since the bouts of Hebear and Hairyman the
cornflowers have been staying at Ballymun, the duskrose has choosed out
Goatstown's hedges, twolips have pressed togatherthem by sweet Rush, townland of
twinedlights, the whitethorn and the redthorn have fairygeyed the mayvalleys of
Knockmaroon, and, though for rings round them, during a chiliad of
perihelygangs, the Formoreans have brittled the tooath of the Danes and the
Oxman has been pestered by the Firebugs and the Joynts have thrown up
jerrybuilding to the Kevanses and Little on the Green is childsfather to the
City (Year! Year! And laughtears!), these paxsealing buttonholes have quadrilled
across the centuries and whiff now whafft to us, fresh and made-of-all-smiles
as, on the eve of Killallwho.
The babbelers with their thangas vain have been (confusium hold them!) they were
and went; thigging thugs were and houhnhymn songtoms were and comely norgels
were and pollyfool fiansees. Menn have thawed, clerks have surssurhummed, the
blond has sought of the brune: Elsekiss thou may, mean Kerry piggy?: and the
duncledames have countered with the hellish fellows: Who ails tongue coddeau,
aspace of dumbillsilly? And they fell upong one another: and themselves they
have fallen. And still nowanights and by nights of yore do all bold floras of
the field to their shyfaun lovers say only: Cull me ere I wilt to thee!: and,
but a little later: Pluck me whilst I blush! Well may they wilt, marry, and
profusedly blush, be troth! For that saying is as old as the howitts. Lave a
whale a while in a whillbarrow (isn't it the truath I'm tallin ye?) to have fins
and flippers that shimmy and shake. Tim Timmycan timped hir, tampting Tam.
Fleppety! Flippety! Fleapow!
Hop!
In the name of Anem this carl on the kopje in pelted thongs a parth a lone who
the joebiggar be he? Forshapen his pigmaid hoagshead, shroonk his plodsfoot. He
hath locktoes, this shortshins, and, Obeold that's pectoral, his mammamuscles
most mousterious. It is slaking nuncheon out of some thing's brain pan. Me
seemeth a dragon man. He is almonthst on the kiep fief by here, is Comestipple
Sacksoun, be it junipery or febrewery, marracks or alebrill or the ramping riots
of pouriose and
froriose. What a quhare soort of a mahan. It is evident the michindaddy. Lets we
overstep his fire defences and these kraals of slitsucked marrogbones. (Cave!)
He can prapsposterus the pillory way to Hirculos pillar. Come on, fool
porterfull, hosiered women blown monk sewer? Scuse us, chorley guy! You
tollerday donsk? N. You tolkatiff scowegian? Nn. You spigotty anglease? Nnn. You
phonio saxo? Nnnn. Clear all so! 'Tis a Jute. Let us swop hats and excheck a few
strong verbs weak oach eather yapyazzard abast the blooty creeks.
Jute.- Yutah!
Mutt.- Mukk's pleasurad.
Jute.- Are you jeff?
Mutt.- Somehards.
Jute.- But you are not jeffmute?
Mutt.- Noho. Only an utterer.
Jute.- Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
Mutt.- I became a stun a stummer.
Jute.- What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How, Mutt?
Mutt.- Aput the buttle, surd.
Jute.- Whose poddle? Wherein?
Mutt.- The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
Jute.- You that side your voise are almost inedible to me.
Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you.
Mutt.- Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru
Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I rimimirim !
Jute.- One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all
your hasitancy cross your qualm with trink gilt. Here
have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good for you.
Mutt.- Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intellible
greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy
faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy!
He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here
where the liveries, Monomark. There where the
missers moony, Minnikin passe.
Jute.- Simply because as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstory
shortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to soil here.
Mutt.- Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a riverpool.
Jute.- Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse like?
Mutt.- Somular with a bull on a clompturf. Rooks roarum
rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn,
with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton
on, did Brian d' of Linn.
Jute.- Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly
forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a pat
what as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and
umscene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
Mutt.- Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dun blink
roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde
ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone
to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the saltings, where
wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of
signory, icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to
whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr.
Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering
rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence:
hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of
livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as
flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of
whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges
to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
Jute.- 'Stench!
Mutt.- Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an'
everynight life olso th'estrange, babylone the great
grandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig,
drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound
seemetery which iz leebez luv.
Jute.- 'Zmorde!
Mutt.- Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted.
Despond's sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup
them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust
and being humus the same roturns. He who runes
may rede it on all fours. O'c'stle, n'wc'stle, tr'c'stle,
crumbling! Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin!
Hum blady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in
your whisht!
Jute.- Whysht?
Mutt.- The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay.
Jute.- Howe?
Mutt.- Here is viceking's graab.
Jute.- Hwaad !
Mutt.- Ore you astoneaged, jute you?
Jute.- Oye am thonthorstrok, thing mud.
(Stoop) if you are abcedminded, to this claybook, what curios of signs (please
stoop), in this allaphbed! Can you rede (since We and Thou had it out already)
its world? It is the same told of all. Many. Miscegenations on miscegenations.
Tieckle. They lived und laughed ant loved end left. Forsin. Thy thingdome is
given to the Meades and Porsons. The meandertale, aloss and again, of our old
Heidenburgh in the days when Head-in-Clouds walked the earth. In the ignorance
that implies impression that knits knowledge that finds the nameform that whets
the wits that convey contacts that sweeten sensation that drives desire that
adheres to attachment that dogs death that bitches birth that entails the
ensuance of existentiality. But with a rush out of his navel reaching the
reredos of Ramasbatham. A terricolous vivelyonview this; queer and it continues
to be quaky. A hatch, a celt, an earshare the pourquose of which was to cassay
the earthcrust at all of hours, furrowards, bagawards, like yoxen at the
turnpaht. Here say figurines billycoose arming and mounting. Mounting and arming
bellicose figurines see here. Futhorc, this liffle effingee is for a firefing
called a flintforfall. Face at the eased! O I fay! Face at the waist! Ho, you
fie! Upwap and dump em, Face to Face! When a part so ptee does duty for the
holos we soon grow to use of an allforabit. Here (please to stoop) are selveran
cued peteet peas of quite a pecuniar interest inaslittle as they are the pellets
that make the tomtummy's pay roll. Right rank ragnar rocks and with these rox
orangotangos rangled rough and rightgorong. Wisha, wisha, whydidtha? Thik is for
thorn that's thuck in its thoil like thumfool's thraitor thrust for vengeance.
What a mnice old mness it all mnakes! A middenhide hoard of objects! Olives,
beets, kimmells, dollies, alfrids, beatties, cormacks and daltons. Owlets' eegs
(O stoop to please!) are here, creakish from age and all now quite epsilene, and
oldwolldy wobblewers, haudworth a wipe o grass. Sss! See the snake wurrums
everyside! Our durlbin is sworming in sneaks. They came to our island from
triangular Toucheaterre beyond the wet prairie rared up in the midst of the
cargon of prohibitive pomefructs but along landed Paddy Wippingham and the his
garbagecans cotched the creeps of them pricker than our whosethere outofman
could quick up her whatsthats. Somedivide and sumthelot but the tally turns
round the same balifuson. Racketeers and bottloggers.
Axe on thwacks on thracks, axenwise. One by one place one be three dittoh and
one before. Two nursus one make a plausible free and idim behind. Starting off
with a big boaboa and threelegged calvers and ivargraine jadesses with a message
in their mouths. And a hundreadfilled unleavenweight of liberorumqueue to con an
we can till allhorrors eve. What a meanderthalltale to unfurl and with what an
end in view of squattor and anntisquattor and postproneauntisquattor! To say too
us to be every tim, nick and larry of us, sons of the sod, sons, littlesons, yea
and lealittlesons, when usses not to be, every sue, siss and sally of us,
dugters of Nan! Accusative ahnsire! Damadam to infinities
True there was in nillohs dieybos as yet no lumpend papeer in the waste,and
mightmountain Penn still groaned for the micies to let flee. All was of
ancientry. You gave me a boot (signs on it!) and I ate the wind. I quizzed you a
quid (with for what?) and you went to the quod. But the world, mind, is, was and
will be writing its own wrunes for ever, man, on all matters that fall under the
ban of our infrarational senses fore the last milchcamel, the heartvein
throbbing between his eyebrowns, has still to moor before the tomb of his cousin
charmian where his date is tethered by the palm that's hers. But the horn, the
drinking, the day of dread are not now. A bone, a pebble, a ramskin; chip them,
chap them, cut them up allways; leave them to terracook in the muttheringpot:
and Gutenmorg with his cromagnom charter, tintingfast and great primer must once
for omniboss step rubrickredd out of the wordpress else is there no virtue more
in alcohoran. For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed of, made of,
hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye finally (though not yet endlike)
meet with the acquaintance of Mister Typus, Mistress Tope and all the little
typtopies. Fillstup. So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound
over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of
Doublends Jined (may his forehead be darkened with mud who would sunder!) till
Daleth, mahomahouma, who oped it closeth thereof the. Dor.
Cry not yet! There's many a smile to Nondum, with sytty maids per man, sir, and
the park's so dark by kindlelight. But look what you have in your handself! The
movibles are scrawling in motions, marching, all of them ago, in pitpat and
zingzang for every busy eerie whig's a bit of a torytale to tell. One's upon a
thyme and two's behind their lettice leap and three's among the strubbely beds.
And the chicks picked their teeths and the dombkey he begay began. You can ask
your ass if he believes it. And so cuddy me only wallops have heels. That one of
a wife with folty barnets. For then was the age when hoops ran high. Of a noarch
and a chopwife; of a pomme full grave and a fammy of levity; or of golden youths
that wanted gelding; or of what the mischievmiss made a man do. Malmarriedad he
was reversogassed by the frisque of her frasques and her prytty pyrrhique. Maye
faye, she's la gaye this snaky woman! From that trippiery toe expectungpelick!
Veil, volantine, valentine eyes. She's the very besch Winnie blows Nay on good.
Flou inn, flow ann. Hohore! So it's sure it was her not we! But lay it easy,
gentle mien, we are in rearing of a norewhig. So weenybeenyveenyteeny. Comsy
see! Het wis if ee newt. Lissom! lissom! I am doing it. Hark, the corne
entreats! And the larpnotes prittle.
It was of a night, late, lang time agone, in an auldstane eld, when Adam was
delvin and his madameen spinning watersilts, when mulk mountynotty man was
everybully and the first leal ribberrobber that ever had her ainway everybuddy
to his lovesaking eyes and everybilly lived alove with everybiddy else, and Jarl
van Hoother had his burnt head high up in his lamphouse, laying cold hands on
himself. And his two little jiminies, cousins of ourn, Tristopher and Hilary,
were kickaheeling their dummy on the oil cloth flure of his homerigh, castle and
earthenhouse. And, be dermot, who come to the keep of his inn only the
nieceof-his-in-law, the prankquean. And the prankquean pulled a rosy one and
made her wit foreninst the dour. And she lit up and fireland was ablaze. And
spoke she to the dour in her petty perusienne: Mark the Wans, why do I am alook
alike a poss of porterpease? And that was how the skirtmisshes began. But the
dour handworded her grace in dootch nossow: Shut! So her grace o'malice
kidsnapped up the jiminy Tristopher and into the shandy westerness she rain,
rain, rain. And Jarl van Hoother warlessed after her with soft dovesgall: Stop
deef stop come back to my earin stop. But she swaradid to him: Unlikelihud. And
there was a brannewail that same sabboath night of falling angles somewhere in
Erio. And the prankquean went for her forty years' walk in Tourlemonde and she
washed the blessings of the lovespots off the jiminy with soap sulliver suddles
and she had her four owlers masters for to tauch him his tickles and she
convorted him to the onesure allgood and he became a luderman. So then she
started to rain and to rain and, be redtom, she was back again at Jarl van
Hoother's in a brace of samers and the jiminy with her in her pinafrond, lace at
night, at another time. And where did she come but to the bar of his bristolry.
And Jarl von Hoother had his baretholobruised heels drowned in his cellarmalt,
shaking warm hands with himself and the jimminy Hilary and the dummy in their
first infancy were below on the tearsheet, wringing and coughing, like brodar
and histher. And the prankquean nipped a paly one and lit up again and redcocks
flew flackering from the hillcombs. And she made her witter before the wicked,
saying: Mark the Twy, why do I am alook alike two poss of porterpease? And:
Shut! says the wicked, handwording her madesty. So her madesty 'a forethought'
set down a jiminy and took up a jiminy and all the lilipath ways to Woeman's
Land she rain, rain, rain. And Jarl von Hoother bleethered atter her with a loud
finegale: Stop domb stop come back with my earring stop. But the prankquean
swaradid: Am liking it. And there was a wild old grannewwail that laurency night
of starshootings somewhere in Erio. And the prankquean went for her forty years'
walk in Turnlemeem and she punched the curses of cromcruwell with the nail of a
top into the jiminy and she had her four larksical monitrix to touch him his
tears and she provorted him to the onecertain allsecure and he became a
tristian. So then she started raining, raining, and in a pair of changers, be
dom ter, she was back again at Jarl von Hoother's and the Larryhill with her
under her abromette. And why would she halt at all if not by the ward of his
mansionhome of another nice lace for the third charm? And Jarl von Hoother had
his hurricane hips up to his pantrybox, ruminating in his holdfour stomachs
(Dare! O dare!), ant the jiminy Toughertrees and the dummy were belove on the
watercloth, kissing and spitting, and roguing and poghuing, like knavepaltry and
naivebride and in their second infancy. And the prankquean picked a blank and
lit out and the valleys lay twinkling. And she made her wittest in front of the
arkway of trihump, asking: Mark the Tris, why do I am alook alike three poss of
porter pease? But that was how the skirtmishes endupped. For like the campbells
acoming with a fork lance of-lightning, Jarl von Hoother Boanerges himself, the
old terror of the dames, came hip hop handihap out through the pikeopened arkway
of his three shuttoned castles, in his broadginger hat and his civic chollar and
his allabuff hemmed and his bullbraggin soxangloves and his ladbroke breeks and
his cattegut bandolair and his fur framed panuncular cumbottes like a rudd
yellan gruebleen orangeman in his violet indigonation, to the whole longth of
the strongth of his bowman's bill. And he clopped his rude hand to his eacy
hitch and he ordurd and his thick spch spck for her to shut up shop, dappy. And
the duppy shot the shutter clup
(Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurthrumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun!)
And they all drank free. For one man in his armour was a fat match always for
any girls under shurts. And that was the first peace of illiterative porthery in
all the flamend floody flatuous world. How kirssy the tiler made a sweet unclose
to the Narwhealian captol. Saw fore shalt thou sea. Betoun ye and be. The
prankquean was to hold her dummyship and the jimminies was to keep the peacewave
and van Hoother was to git the wind up. Thus the hearsomeness of the burger
felicitates the whole of the polis.
O foenix culprit! Ex nickylow malo comes mickelmassed bonum. Hill, rill, ones in
company, billeted, less be proud of. Breast high and bestride! Only for that
these will not breathe upon Norronesen or Irenean the secrest of their
soorcelossness. Quarry silex, Homfrie Noanswa! Undy gentian festyknees, Livia
Noanswa? Wolkencap is on him, frowned; audiurient, he would evesdrip, were it
mous at hand, were it dinn of bottles in the far ear. Murk, his vales are
darkling. With lipth she lithpeth to him all to time of thuch on thuch and thow
on thow. She he she ho she ha to la. Hairfluke, if he could bad twig her!
Impalpabunt, he abhears. The soundwaves are his buffeteers; they trompe him with
their trompes; the wave of roary and the wave of hooshed and the wave of
hawhawhawrd and the wave of neverheedthemhorseluggarsandlisteltomine.
Landloughed by his neaghboormistress and perpetrified in his offsprung, sabes
and suckers, the moaning pipers could tell him to his faceback, the louthly one
whose loab we are devorers of, how butt for his hold halibutt, or her to her
pudor puff, the lipalip one whose libe we drink at, how biff for her tiddywink
of a windfall, our breed and washer givers, there would not be a holey spier on
the town nor a vestal flouting in the dock, nay to make plein avowels, nor a yew
nor an eye to play cash cash in Novo Nilbud by swamplight nor a' toole o' tall
o' toll and noddy hint to the convaynience.
He dug in and dug out by the skill of his tilth for himself and all belonging to
him and he sweated his crew beneath his auspice for the living and he urned his
dread, that dragon volant, and he made louse for us and delivered us to boll
weevils amain, that mighty liberator, Unfru-Chikda-Uru-Wukru and begad he did,
our ancestor most worshipful, till he thought of a better one in his windower's
house with that blushmantle upon him from earsend to earsend. And would again
could whispring grassies wake him and may again when the fiery bird disembers.
And will again if so be sooth by elder to his youngers shall be said. Have you
whines for my wedding, did you bring bride and bedding, will you whoop for my
deading is a? Wake? Usgueadbaugham!
Anam muck an dhoul ! Did ye drink me doornail?
Now be aisy, good Mr Finnimore, sir. And take your laysure like a god on pension
and don't be walking abroad. Sure you'd only lose yourself in Healiopolis now
the way your roads in Kapelavaster are that winding there after the calvary, the
North Umbrian and the Fivs Barrow and Waddlings Raid and the Bower Moore and wet
your feet maybe with the foggy dew's abroad. Meeting some sick old bankrupt or
the Cottericks' donkey with his shoe hanging, clankatachankata, or a slut
snoring with an impure infant on a bench. 'Twould turn you against life, so
'twould. And the weather's that mean too. To part from Devlin is hard as Nugent
knew, to leave the clean tanglesome one lushier than its neighbour
enfranchisable fields but let your ghost have no grievance. You're better off,
sir, where you are, primesigned in the full of your dress, bloodeagle waistcoat
and all, remembering your shapes and sizes on the pillow of your babycurls under
your sycamore by the keld water where the Tory's clay will scare the varmints
and have all you want, pouch, gloves, flask, bricket, kerchief, ring and
amberulla, the whole treasure of the pyre, in the land of souls with Homin and
Broin Baroke and pole ole Lonan and Nobucketnozzler and the Guinnghis Khan. And
we'll be coming here, the ombre players, to rake your gravel and bringing you
presents, won't we, fenians? And il isn't our spittle we'll stint you of, is it,
druids? Not shabbty little imagettes, pennydirts and dodgemyeyes you buy in the
soottee stores. But offerings of the field. Mieliodories, that Doctor Faherty,
the madison man, taught to gooden you. Poppypap's a passport out. And honey is
the holiest thing ever was, hive, comb and earwax, the food for glory, (mind you
keep the pot or your nectar cup may yield too light !) and some goat's milk,
sir, like the maid used to bring you. Your fame is spreading like Basilico's
ointment since the Fintan Lalors piped you overborder and there's whole
households beyond the Bothnians and they calling names after you. The menhere's
always talking of you sitting around on the pig's cheeks under the sacred
rooftree, over the bowls of memory where every hollow holds a hallow, with a
pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon House. And admiring to our supershillelagh
where the palmsweat on high is the mark of your manument. All the toethpicks
ever Eirenesians chewed on are chips chepped from that battery block. If you
were bowed and soild and letdown itself from the oner of the load it was that
paddyplanters might pack up plenty and when you were undone in every point fore
the laps of goddesses you showed our labourlasses how to free was easy. The game
old Gunne, they do be saying, (skull !) that was a planter for you, a spicer of
them all. Begog but he was, the G.O.G! He's duddandgunne now and we're apter
finding the sores of his sedeq but peace to his great limbs, the buddhoch, with
the last league long rest of him, while the millioncandled eye of Tuskar sweeps
the Moylean Main ! There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes and Brettland, no,
nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No, nor a king nor an ardking, bung
king, sung king or hung king. That you could fell an elmstree twelve urchins
couldn't ring round and hoist high the stone that Liam failed. Who but a
Maccullaghmore the reise of our fortunes and the faunayman at the funeral to
compass our cause? If you was hogglebully itself and most frifty like you was
taken waters still what all where was your like to lay the cable or who was the
batter could better Your Grace? Mick Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to
the pure perfection and Leatherbags Reynolds tries your shuffle and cut. But as
Hopkins and Hopkins puts it, you were the pale eggynaggy and a kis to tilly up.
We calls him the journeyall Buggaloffs since he went Jerusalemfaring in Arssia
Manor. You had a gamier cock than Pete, Jake or Martin and your archgoose of
geese stubbled for All Angels' Day. So may the priest of seven worms and
scalding tayboil, Papa Vestray, come never anear you as your hair grows wheater
beside the Liffey that's in Heaven! Hep, hep, hurrah there! Hero! Seven times
thereto we salute you! The whole bag of kits, falconplumes and jackboots
incloted, is where you flung them that time. Your heart is in the system of the
Shewolf and your crested head is in the tropic of Copricapron. Your feet are in
the cloister of Virgo. Your olala is in the region of sahuls. And that's ashore
as you were born. Your shuck tick's swell. And that there texas is tow linen.
The loamsome roam to Laffayette is ended. Drop in your tracks, babe! Be not
unrested ! The headboddylwatcher of the chempel of Isid, Totumcalmum, saith: I
know thee, metherjar, I know thee, salvation boat. For we have performed upon
thee, thou abramanation, who comest ever without being invoked, whose coming is
unknown, all the things which the company of the precentors and of the
grammarians of Christpatrick's ordered concerning thee in the matter of the work
of thy tombing. Howe of the shipmen, steep wall!
Everything's going on the same or so it appeals to all of us, in the old
holmsted here. Coughings all over the sanctuary, bad scrant to me aunt Florenza.
The horn for breakfast, one o'gong for lunch and dinnerchime. As popular as when
Belly the First was keng and his members met in the Diet of Man. The same shop
slop in the window. Jacob's lettercrackers and Dr Tipple's Vi-Cocoa and the
Eswuards' desippated soup beside Mother Seagull's syrup. Meat took a drop when
Reilly-Parsons failed. Coal's short but we've plenty of bog in the yard. And
barley's up again, begrained to it. The lads is attending school nessans
regular, sir, spelling beesknees with hathatansy and turning out tables by
mudapplication. Allfor the books and never pegging smashers after Tom Bowe
Glassarse or Timmy the Tosser. 'Tisraely the truth! No isn't it, roman
pathoricks? You were the doublejoynted janitor the morning they were delivered
and you'll be a grandfer yet entirely when the ritehand seizes what the lovearm
knows. Kevin's just a doat with his cherub cheek, chalking oghres on walls, and
his little lamp and schoolbelt and bag of knicks, playing postman's knock round
the diggings and if the seep were milk you could lieve his olde by his ide but,
laus sake, the devil does be in that knirps of a Jerry sometimes, the tarandtan
plaidboy, making encostive inkum out of the last of his lavings and writing a
blue streak over his bourseday shirt. Hetty Jane's a child of Mary. She'll be
coming (for they're sure to choose her) in her white of gold with a tourch of
ivy to rekindle the flame on Felix Day. But Essie Shanahan has let down her
skirts. You remember Essie in our Luna's Convent? They called her Holly Merry
her lips were so ruddyberry and Pia de Purebelle when the redminers riots was on
about her. Were I a clerk designate to the Williamswoodsmenufactors I'd poster
those pouters on every jamb in the town. She's making her rep at Lanner's
twicenightly. With the tabarine tamtammers of the whirligigmagees. Beats that
cachucha flat. 'Twould dilate your heart to go.
Aisy now, you decent man, with your knees and lie quiet and repose your honour's
lordship! Hold him here, Ezekiel Irons, and may God strengthen you! It's our
warm spirits, boys, he's spooring. Dimitrius O'Flagonan, cork that cure for the
Clancartys ! You swamped enough since Portobello to float the Pomeroy. Fetch
neahere, Pat Koy! And fetch nouyou, Pam Yates! Be nayther angst of Wramawitch!
Here's lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none, where mystries
pour kind on, O sleepy! So be yet!
I've an eye on queer Behan and old Kate and the butter, trust me. She'll do no
jugglywuggly with her war souvenir postcards to help to build me murial,
tippers! I'll trip your traps! Assure a sure there! And we put on your clock
again, sir, for you. Did or didn't we, sharestutterers? So you won't be up a
stump entirely. Nor shed your remnants. The sternwheel's crawling strong. I seen
your missus in the hall. Like the queenoveire. Arrah, it's herself that's fine,
too, don't be talking! Shirksends? You storyan Harry chap longa me Harry chap
storyan grass woman plelthy good trout. Shakeshands. Dibble a hayfork's wrong
with her only her lex's salig. Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cat's
hours on the Pollockses' woolly round tabouretcushion watching her sewing a
dream together, the tailor's daughter, stitch to her last. Or while waiting for
winter to fire the enchantement, decoying more nesters to fall down the flue.
It's allavalonche that blows nopussy food. If you only were there to explain the
meaning, best of men, and talk to her nice of guldenselver. The lips would
moisten once again. As when you drove with her to Findrinny Fair. What with
reins here and ribbons there all your hands were employed so she never knew was
she on land or at sea or swooped through the blue like Airwinger's bride. She
was flirtsome then and she's fluttersome yet. She can second a song and adores a
scandal when the last post's gone by. Fond of a concertina and pairs passing
when she's had her forty winks for supper after kanekannan and abbely dimpling
and is in her merlin chair assotted, reading her Evening World. To see is it
smarts, full lengths or swaggers. News, news, all the news. Death, a leopard,
kills fellah in Fez. Angry scenes at Stormount. Stilla Star with her lucky in
goingaways. Opportunity fair with the China floods and we hear these rosy
rumours. Ding Tams he noise about all same Harry chap. She's seeking her way, a
chickle a chuckle, in and out of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar et
Pervenche, freely adapted to The Novvergin's Viv. There'll be bluebells blowing
in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear. Zee End. But that's a
world of ways away. Till track laws time. No silver ash or switches for that
one! While flattering candles flare. Anna Stacey's how are you! Worther waist in
the noblest, says Adams and Sons, the wouldpay actionneers. Her hair's as brown
as ever it was. And wivvy and wavy. Repose you now! Finn no more!
For, be that samesake sibsubstitute of a hooky salmon, there's already a big
rody ram lad at random on the premises of his haunt of the hungred bordles, as
it is told me. Shop Illicit, flourishing like a lordmajor or a buaboabaybohm,
litting flop a deadlop (aloose!) to lee but lifting a bennbranch a yardalong
(Ivoeh!) the breezy side (for showm!), the height of Brewster's chimpney and as
broad below as Phineas Barnum; humphing his share of the showthers is senken on
him he's such a grandfallar, with a pocked wife in pickle that's a flyfire and
three lice nittle clinkers, two twilling bugs and one midgit pucelle. And aither
he cursed and recursed and was everseen doing what your fourfootlers saw or he
was never done seeing what you coolpigeons know, weep the clouds aboon for
smiledown witnesses, and that'll do now about the fairyhees and the frailyshees.
Though Eset fibble it to the zephiroth and Artsa zoom it round her heavens for
ever. Creator he has created for his creatured ones a creation. White monothoid?
Red theatrocrat? And all the pinkprophets cohalething? Very much so! But however
'twas 'tis sure for one thing, what sherif Toragh voucherfors and Mapqiq makes
put out, that the man, Humme the Cheapner, Esc, overseen as we thought him, yet
a worthy of the naym, came at this timecoloured place where we live in our
paroqial fermament one tide on another, with a bumrush in a hull of a wherry,
the twin turbane dhow, The Bey for Dybbling, this archipelago's first visiting
schooner, with a wicklowpattern waxenwench at her prow for a figurehead, the
deadsea dugong updipdripping from his depths, and has been repreaching himself
like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi by his shide, adi
and aid, growing hoarish under his turban and changing cane sugar into sethulose
starch (Tuttut's cess to him!) as also that, batin the bulkihood he bloats about
when innebbiated, our old offender was humile, commune and ensectuous from his
nature, which you may gauge after the bynames was put under him, in lashons of
languages, (honnein suit and praisers be!) and, totalisating him, even hamissim
of himashim that he, sober serious, he is ee and no counter he who will be
ultimendly respunchable for the hubbub caused in Edenborough.