himself with a loovahgloovah on it; last mannarks maketh man when wandshift winneth womans: so how would it splutter to the better half of a kish who went up and a whole drove of maiden ferm, then here in Gizzygazelle 238 Tark’s bimboowood so pleasekindly communicake with the muckrake When will they wallow for a little and make follay till the sea and March’s pebbles spinning from beneath our footslips to carry flavour with my extravert davy. Like glue. Be through. Moyhard’s daynoight, tomthumb. Phwum! — How voice you that, nice