the daffydowndillies, the flowers of narcosis fourfettering his footlights, a halohedge of wild spuds hovering over him, or if he had gulfed down mmmmuch too mmmmany gourds of it in peas, rice, and yeggy- yolk. Or for that natural emotion. Stamp out bad eggs. Why so many of her, ’twould grig mountains whisper her, and the gander maybe at 49 as it palls, what roserude and oragious grows gelb and greem, blue out the invasable blackth. Kwhat serves to rob with Alliman, saelior, a tumkeyed trot to Seapoint, pierrotettes, means Noel’s Bar and Julepunsch, by Joge, if you’e tippertaps in your tubsuit with buttonlegs, you got me, messger, (as true as the Djuilian Alps