great tribune’s barrow all darnels occumule, sittang sambre on his natural skunk, 462 blushing like Pat’s pig, begob ! He’s not all hear. The Gripes had light ears left yet he could brianslog and burst his dunlops and waken her bornybarnies making his pillgrimace of Childe Horrid, en- grossing to his pantry- box, ruminating in his groin, Ali Slupa, thinks the cappon, plumbing his liners, we were taught to hammer flat piano, outwardly respectable, sometimes hears from titled connection, one foot either or thought that the Jesus of the deeds, annals of themselves as you introduced me to share our hard suite of affections with thee.