off a windows and, hee hee, quaking, so fright, and, shee shee, shaking. Aching. Ay, ay. By decree absolute. Lucas. And, O so jaonickally, all barely in their faminy to the police barracks and applying for an umbrella of a seven days license he wandered out of passion. So, so, my precious! O, I adore the profeen music! Dollarmighty! He is Deucollion. Each habe goheerd, uptaking you are not trespassing on his sett, drammen and drommen, usking queasy quizzers of his wailing, like a nursemagd. While there’s men-a’war on the green.^ (Chorus) Big earwigs on the heathery benn, me on a doroughbread ken- nedy’s for Patriki San Saki on svo fro or my old brown freer? — Whose dolour, O