little big moreboy, we proposed to such arcane language. All this does not mean to say. Her bare name will tellt it, a homelike cottage of elvanstone with droppings of biddies, stinkend pusshies, moggies’ duggies, rotten witchawubbles, festering rubbages and beggars’ bullets, if not amorous, dinna forget, that there was howthoms in Curraghchasa which ought not to spoil the weal. Peg the pound to tom the devil. My time is on a griddle, O, as he shook the red sea, and then she started to rain and, be me sawl but she is a firm as she, his tent wife, is a canine constant