Book I Part I
riverrun, past Eve and
Adams, 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 damores, frover
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 topsawyers rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse
to Laurens Countys 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 alls fair in vanessy, were sosie
sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pas malt had
Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to
be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounnawnskawntoohooho-ordenenthurnuk!) 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! Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek!
Kóax Kóax Kóax! 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. Sods 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 theirs
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
Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand,
freemens 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 Topers 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 otoolers
clittering up and tombles abuckets 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, youre
going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, youre vine! Senddays
eve and, ah, youre vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, youre 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 well 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 ivvys holired abbles,
(what with the wallhalls 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 TellNoTailors
Corner and the fumes and the hopes and the strupithump of his villes
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
Fillagains 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 Hanandhunigans extermination! Some in kinkin corass, more,
kankan keening. Belling him up and filling him down. Hes stiff but
hes steady is Priam Olim! Twas he was the dacent gaylabouring
youth. Sharpen his pillowscone, tap up his bier! Eerawhere 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 ireglints 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 Singpantrys Kennedy bread. And whase hitched
to the hop in his tayle? A glass of Danu UDunnells 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 meals
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 lyffinginwait of the upjock and hockums. Hence when the clouds
roll by, jamey, a proudseye view is  enjoyable of our moundings
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 magnates gharters and his bangkoks best
and goliars 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 OHurry. All of them arminusvarminus. 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 handmades 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 Willingdones
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 hes as sooner buy a guinness than hed 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. Tarras 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 hearts right there. Tip. This is me Belchums 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 Sophy-KeyPo 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.
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 JigaLanthern! Its a candlelittle houthse
of a month and one windies. Downadown, High Downadown. And nummered quaintlymine.
And such reasonable weather too! The wagrant winds awaltzaround
the piltdowns and on every blasted knollyrock (if you can spot fifty I
spy four more) theres 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 Thons on shower or
when Thons flash with his Nixy girls or when Thons 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 parodys
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 its the armitides toonigh, militopucos,
and toomourn we wish for a muddy kissmans to the minutia workers and theres
to be a gorgeups truce for happinest childher everwere. Come nebo me and
suso sing the day we sallybright. Shes burrowed the coachers
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 (thats 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 thats what makes lifework leaving and the worlds
a cell for citters to cit in. Let young wimman run away with the story
and let young min talk smooth behind the buttelers back. She knows
her knights 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 theres nare a hairbrow nor an eyebush on this glaubrous
phace of Herrschuft Whatarwelter shell loan a vesta and hire some
peat and sarch the shores her cockles to heat and shell 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 therell be
iggs for the brekkers come to mourn him, sunny side up with care. So true
is it that therewheres a turnover the tay is wet too and when you
think you ketch sight of a hind make sure but youre cocked by a
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 Whartons 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, Olafs on the rise and Ivors on the lift and Sitrics
places between them. But all they are all there scraping along to
sneeze out a likelihood that will solve and salve lifes 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! Wheatstones 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 bailes annals, f t. in Dyffinarsky neer sall fail
til heathersmoke and cloudweed Eires 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, obrine
abride, 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.
1132 A.D. Men like to ants or emmets wondern
upon a groot hwide Whallfisk which lay in a Runnel. Blubby wares upat
566 A.D. On Baalfires night of this
year after deluge a crone that  hadde a wickered Kish for to hale
dead tunes from the bog look it 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.
566 A.D. At this time it fell out that
a brazenlockt damselgrieved (sobralasolas!) because that Puppette her
minion was ravishtof her by the ogre Puropeus Pious. Bloody wars in Ballyaughacleeaghbally.
1132. 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 olds code with some fine covered by six
marks or ninepins in metalmen for the sake of his labours dross
while it will be only now and again in our rear of oer 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 neighbours safe.
Now after all that farfatchd 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
fredelands plain! Lean neath stone pine the pastor lies with his
crook; young pricket by prickets sister nibbleth on returned viridities;
amaid her rocking grasses the herb trinity shams lowliness; skyup is of
evergrey. Thus, too, for donkeys years. Since the bouts of Hebear
and Hairyman the cornflowers have been staying at Ballymun,  the
duskrose has choosed out Goatstowns 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 madeofallsmiles 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 (isnt it the truath
Im tallin ye?) to have fins and flippers that shimmy and shake.
Tim Timmycan timped hir, tampting Tam. Fleppety! Flippety! Fleapow!
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 thats pectoral, his mammamuscles most mousterious. It
is slaking nuncheon out of some things 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.
Mutt.- Mukks pleasurad.
Jute.- Are you jeff?
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 wrongstoryshortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to
Mutt.- Just how a puddinstone inat the
brookcells by a riverpool.
Jute.- Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse
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 patwhat
as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and umscene! Gut aftermeal! See you
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
oer 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!
Mutt.- Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge
by the smal an everynight life olso thestrange, babylone the
greatgrandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild,
likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv. 
Mutt.- Meldundleize! By the fearse wave
behoughted. Desponds 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. Ocstle,
nwcstle, trcstle, crumbling! Sell me sooth the
fare for Humblin! Humblady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be
in your whisht!
Mutt.- The gyant Forficules with Amni the
Mutt.- Here is vicekings graab.
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 HeadinClouds 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 isfor 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
[Fs as siglas; down and up]! 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 tomtummys pay roll. Right rank ragnar
rocks and with these rox orangotangos rangled rough and rightgorong. Wisha,
wisha, whydidtha? Thik is for thorn thats thuck in its thoil like
thumfools 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
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 thats
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! Theres many a smile
to Nondum, with sytty maids per man, sir, and the parks 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 whigs a bit of a torytale to tell. Ones
upon a thyme and twos behind their lettice leap and threes
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, shes
la gaye this snaky woman! From that trippiery toe expectungpelick! Veil,
volantine, valentine eyes. Shes the very besch Winnie blows Nay
on good. Flou inn, flow ann. Hohore! So its 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 niece-ofhisinlaw,
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
omalice 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 Hoothers
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 Woemans 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 Hoothers 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 bowmans 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 (Perkodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurthrumathunaradidillifaitit-illibumullunukkunun!)
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 neverheedthem horse-luggarsandlisteltomine.
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, UnfruChikdaUruWukru and begad he did, our ancestor most
worshipful, till he thought of a better one in his windowers house
with that blushmantle upon him from ears end 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? Usqueadbaugham!
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 dont be walking abroad.
Sure youd 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 dews 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 weathers 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. Youre 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 Torys 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 well be coming here, the ombre players, to rake your gravel
and bringing  you presents, wont we, fenians? And il isnt
our spittle well 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. Poppypaps 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
goats milk, sir, like the maid used to bring you. Your fame is spreading
like Basilicos ointment since the Fintan Lalors piped you overborder
and theres whole households beyond the Bothnians and they calling
names after you. The menheres always talking of you sitting around
on the pigs 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! Hes dudd andgunne
now and were 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 couldnt
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 thats
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 thats
ashore as you were born. Your shuck ticks 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 Christpatricks
ordered concerning thee in the matter of the work of thy tombing. Howe
of the shipmen, steep wall!
Everythings 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 ogong 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. Jacobs lettercrackers and Dr Tipples ViCocoa
and the Eswuards desippated soup beside Mother Seagulls syrup.
Meat took a drop when ReillyParsons failed. Coals short but weve
plenty of bog in the yard. And barleys 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 isnt it, roman pathoricks?
You were the doublejoynted janitor the morning they were delivered and
youll be a grandfer yet entirely when the ritehand seizes what the
lovearm knows. Kevins just a doat with his cherub cheek, chalking
oghres on walls, and his little lamp and schoolbelt and bag of knicks,
playing postmans 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 Janes a child of Mary. Shell be coming
(for theyre 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 Lunas 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
Williamswoodsmen-ufactors Id poster those pouters on every jamb
in the town. Shes making her rep at Lanners 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 honours lordship! Hold him here, Ezekiel
Irons, and may God strengthen you! Its our warm spirits, boys, hes
spooring. Dimitrius OFlagonan, 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!
Heres lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none,
where mystries pour kind on, O sleepy! So be yet!
Ive an eye on queer Behan and old
Kate and the butter, trust me. Shell do no jugglywuggly with her
war souvenir postcards to help to build me murial, tippers! Ill
trip your traps! Assure a sure there! And we put on your clock again,
sir, for you. Did or didnt we, sharestutterers? So you wont
be up a stump entirely. Nor shed your remnants. The sternwheels
crawling strong. I  seen your missus in the hall. Like the queenoveire.
Arrah, its herself thats fine, too, dont be talking!
Shirksends? You storyan Harry chap longa me Harry chap storyan grass woman
plelthy good trout. Shakeshands. Dibble a hayforks wrong with her
only her lexs salig. Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cats
hours on the Pollockses woolly round tabouretcushion watching her
sewing a dream together, the tailors daughter, stitch to her last.
Or while waiting for winter to fire the enchantement, decoying more nesters
to fall down the flue. Its 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 Airwingers bride. She was flirtsome
then and shes fluttersome yet. She can second a song and adores
a scandal when the last posts gone by. Fond of a concertina and
pairs passing when shes 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. Shes seeking her way, a chickle a chuckle, in and out
of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar et Pervenche, freely
adapted to The Novvergins Viv. Therell be bluebells
blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear. Zee End.
But thats a world of ways away. Till track laws time. No silver
ash or switches for that one! While flattering candles flare. Anna Staceys
how are you! Worther waist in the noblest, says Adams and Sons, the wouldpay
actionneers. Her hairs 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, theres 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 Brewsters chimpney and
as broad below as Phineas Barnum; humphing his share of the showthers
is senken on him hes such a grandfallar, with a pocked wife in pickle
thats 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 thatll
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 archipelagos 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 (Tuttuts 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.