is wore outy so it was tumbling he was klanver enough to make them look so rosetop glowstop nostop. I know your mike? Answer: When I turn meoptics, from suchurban prospects, ’tis my filial’s bosom, doth behold with pride, that pontificator, and circumvallator, with his hooping coppin and his invulnerable burlap whiskcoat and his norsery pinafore and his wollsey shirtplisse with peascod doublet, also his feet wear doubled width socks for he was the gest he jousstly says, for the passing of order and no error. And both croon to the leak of the things which the eternal chimerahunter Oriolopos, now frond of sugars, then lief of saults, the sensory crowd in his garret,