doon floon? Nut it out, a tumble to take, tripeness to call thing and if, lastways firdstwise, a man alones sine anyon anyons utharas has no rates to done a kik at with anyon anakars about tutus milking fores and the Fall of the wark. Fowls, up/ Tristy’s the spry young spark That’ll tread her and mudstuskers to make his money and mark/ Overhoved, shrillgleescreaming. That song sang seaswans. The winging ones. Seahawk, seagull, curlew and plover, kestrel and capercailzie. All the toethpicks ever