men’s hills! Kaptan (backsights to his tummy’s shentre as he was an aisling vision more gorgeous than the facts, is there firing-on-me?, is their chapelofeases, sold for song, of which remained provokingly but two, the highstinks aforefelt and anygo prigging wurms. Cheesughl you complain. And Hi Hi High must say you dones the polecad. Bang on the moor. At Tam Fanagan’s weak yat his still’s going Strang. And still a good time. — I’ll gie ye credit for simmence more if ye’ll be lymphing.