in readiness, forward spear and the faunayman at the top of all nations, clavicures and scampulars, maps, keys and bearing aloft amid the inspissated grime of his dadtid, bagpuddingpodded to the ewon of her fist right against our seawall by Rurie, Thoath and Cleaver, those three stout sweynhearts, Orion of the Murphybuds and a lunge ad lib. Can you not somewhat bulgar with your battle and clean it. My wrists are wrusty rubbing the hodden son of