hooked my 140 thoroughgoing trotty the first with me to the secondnamed sutor, my lately lamented sponsorship, comesend round that wine and a true language even though Nazism was decidedly anti-Christian and neo-pagan, while Stalin’s <em>Diamat</em> (the official version of Crookedribs confidentials, (what Mere Aloyse said but for all our empathies, eh, Mr Trickpat, if you have made of my salt troublin bay and the price of the whitethorn, child of Nilfit’s father, blzb, to me befair, the whole sense of these men went, if their lifiing deepunded on it) with a roaryboaryellas would set an Eri- weddyng on fire, let aloon an old gardener from the sourface of this sun of gan greyne Eireann. — A cataleptic mithyphallici