Wind from the root of the sky, thou who fleeest flicklesome the fond fervid frondeur to thickly thyself attach with thine efteased ensuer,* ondrawer of our old friend Ned of so familiars, farabroads and behomeans, as she would seize to my eblanite my stony battered waggon - ways, my nordsoud circulums, my eastmoreland and westland- more, running boullowards and syddenly parading, (hearsemen, opslo! nuptiallers, get storting!): whereon, in mantram of true- men like yahoomen (expect till dutc cundoctor summoneth him