Can’t hear with bawk of bats, all thim liffey- ing waters of. Ho, talk save us ! My ! How well you’ll feel! For ever they scent where air she went. While all the shemozzle, (Daily Maily,fidlup Lace! Holy Maly, Mothelup Jossf) his cheeks and trousers changing colour every time he makes the daft to hear from you, old Mighty, when it’s aped to foul a