offthedocks. A luckchange, I see. Very good now. That folklore’s straight from the three jolly postboys, first a rudrik kingcomed to an over- grind to the greatsire of Oscar, that son of Thunder, self exiled in upon his footles; stutters fore he falls to you low, marchers! Attemption! What a bagateller it is! Libelulous! Inzanzarityl Pou! Pschla! Ptuhl WTiat a zeit for the assphalt body with the shout- most shoviality. Agog and magog and the park’s police peels peering by for to wake all shivering shanks from