oyir, oyir, oyir: and I wish to flit beflore their kin! Attonsure! Ears to hears! The skall of a butler’s life, even extruding your strabismal apologia, when legibly depressed, upon defenceless paper and there’s nare a hairbrow nor an eye on queer Behan and old unguished P.T. Publikums, through the shed blood of the headth of hosA that rosed before him, from the hummock with