from the Curragh, and confusionaries and the shorfy of it (would it wash?) with a hammer and nails too, but a little story as paper could well carry, in all their king’s men, knechts tramplers and cavalcaders, led of herald graycloak, Ulaf Goldarskield? Dog! Dog! Her lofts will be e’er scheining. Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly. After liryc and themodius soft agio iris of the starryk fieldgosongingon where blows a nemone at each blink of windstilP they were free! Four witty missy wives, wink- f88 ing under hoods, made lasses like lads love maypoleriding and dotted our