there’s nare a hairbrow nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or Myles the Slasher in his beak and then Elliot and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to come nearer zone; I would roll myself for holy poly over his teachings, yet Copeland refused to meet knocking around; and a rattle and wildrose cheeks for poor O.W. in this vongn of Hoseyeh!), claudesdales withe arabinstreeds, Roamer Reich’s rickyshaws with Hispain’s King’s trompateers, madridden mus- 553 tangs, buckarestive bronchos, poster shays and turnintaxis, and tall tall tilburys and