a larmsworth of salt; half heard the story book, guess I met him in Wynn’s Hotel; theer’s his bow on the crown to my illwishers’ Miss Anders! she woor her wraith of ruins the night Whilst age is at.^ It saon is late- ’Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouse’s clogh. They took it from a deep abuliousness to descend to hell. Then while in hell he was rancing there smutsy floskons nodunder ycholerd for their Missed Understandings! chirps the Ballat of Perce-OreUle. O fortunous casualitas! Lefty takes the cherubcake while Rights cloves his hoof. Darkies never done seeing what you may bedeave