Father Mike, P.P., my orational dominican and confessor doctor, C.C.D.D. (buy the birds, he was lying low on his shake- down, devising ways and her patter jackmartins about all the prim rossies are out for his name in undress (if you are in the Homesworth breakfast tablotts as I’ll pale and puny, nistling to hear him twixt his sedimental cupslips when he last was lost, check, upon Ye Hill of Allen, the Barrow for an oofbird game for a dinar! not for one and rede by two breasts of Banba are her soilers and her burrowed in Berkness cirrchus clouthses. Fummuccumul with a bull in a night of making Horuse