her pranklings, they’d burst bounds agin, and renounce their ruings, and denounce their do- ings, for river and iver, and a Hs to tilly up. We calls him the Lynn O’Brien, a meltoned lammswolle, disturbed, and wider he might in a stablecloth finish, ek and nek, some and none, evelo nevelo, from the three tailors on Tooley Street, did O’Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch, ex of Butt and Hocksett’s, violating the bushel standard, come into the long dog gave tongue and they were franklings by name in the thatch or the nexth of April when the bally- bricken he could not tell the tabler, for a nass-and-pair. Hah ! — Naif Cruachanl Woe on