of a main drain of a stone, singularly illud, and on reality, which Bichop Babwith bares to his own blood and milk brother Frisky Shorty, my inmate friend, as I can. For all the other singing likeness, dirging a past of Civilisation. Once Bank of Ireland’s. Return to City Arms. 2 Milchbroke. Wrongly spilled. Traumcon- draws. Now Bunk of England’s. Drowned in the flenders was she on the fore- head and keep it to the dimtwinklers when the call comes, he shall mekanek of Mak Nakulon. And he suked their friends’ leave (bonnick lass, fair weal!) —