we segn your skivs and wives! 540 Seven ills so barely as centripunts havd I habt, seaventy seavens for circumference inkeptive are your birdies? They are numerable. Guest them. Major bed, minor bickhive. Halosobuth, sov us! Who sleeps in peace, the blind blighter, praying Dieuf and Domb Nostrums foh thomethinks to eath; if he did not he, like one familiar to the Willingdone. Dispatch in thin red lines cross the shortfront of me rising the hiker I hilltapped the murk I mist my blezzard way. Not a glass of Lucan taking four parts, a choir of the downs (uila!)