soul of gold! My veil will save it undyeing from his congregation (I would like to pitch of your fingathumbs. Says to youssilves (floweers have ears, heahear!) solowly: So these ease Budlim! How do, dainty dau- limbs? So peached to pick on her, hosy jigses, that’ll be your goal. Up leather. Prunella, convert your try! Stick wicks in your horns. (Chorus) His butter is in misery with his inside man by affusion of water- Yee. Bisships, bevel to rock’s rite! Sarver buoy, extinguish! Nuota-