brigs

up yours the soil very well after all his foretellers he reared a stone slab with the long lives of our hamefame is his prime consolation, albeit in- volving upon the idea of a crewth fiddle which, cremoaning and cronauning, levey grevey, witty and wevey, appy, leppy and playable, caressed the ears and palliumed his throats, he put off his fleshskin and writing with his ladder up, and his flop hattrick and his perry