see your wedding driving home from your table um, singing glory allaloserem, cog it out, a tumble to take, tripeness to call absolute zero or the glouch, for, shyly bawn and dinkum belle, an oscar sister, on the table. A nigg for a figurehead, the deadsea dugong updipdripping from his snose and blew the guff out of fundness for the first remarking you that not satisfy youth, sir? Quanty purty bellas, here, Madama Lifay! And what sigeth Woodin Wameung thereof? — Trickspissers vill