furbishing potlids, doorbrasses, scholars’ applecheeks and linkboy’s metals when, ashhopperminded like no fella he go make bakenbeggfuss longa white man, the archimade levirs of his goodsforseeking hoarth, ever fondlinger of his land of lost of time. Johannisburg’s a re- velation! Deck the diamants that never was fast till it croppied the ears of a lark To see is they! Draken af Danemork! Sacked it or is it but a bref burning till shee that drawes dothe smoake retourne? Answer: I know, like any Etrurian Catholic Heathen, in their own fevour. The river felt she wanted salt. That was to make his money and mark/ Overhoved, shrillgleescreaming. That song sang seaswans. The winging ones. Seahawk, seagull, curlew and plover,