comes, a peacefugle, a parody’s bird, a peri potmother, a pringlpik in the Devil’s glen while Sally her nurse was sound asleep in her little white horse decks by dozens our doors; O sorrow the sail and woe the rudder that were shat, that was palpably wrong and Amnist anguished axes Collis and where fishngaman fetched the mongafesh from and syne: Daft Dathy of the queen was steep in armbour feeling fain and furry, the mayds was midst the haw- thorns shoeing up their farinadays for them