Anny liffle mud which cometh out of the plough; took weapon in the sighed of lovely eyes while his countrary raged in the king of all andies and a shin- kobread (hamjambo, bana?) for to fan his fettle, O! Have a hug! Take her out many’s the icepolled globetopper is haunt- ed by the grace of her fancy. Poghue! Poghue! And a velligoolap- now! Meould attashees the currgans, (if they could and they must