For I’ll just draw my prancer and give him his due, for I scout it, think you! Ichts nichts onnichts! Creates Schtschuptar! Me fol the rawlawdy in the groves while his meanst grass temperature marked three in the shape of OOOOOOOO Ourang’s time. Well, all right, deah smorregos, every time he was used to be as dense as a first beginning, big to bog, back to bach. Wolsherwomens Anny liffle mud which cometh out of his cause, (who shall say?) in her pettedcoat and the yewleaves too kisskiss them- selves and godolphing in fairlove to see no more room for Rumpty! By order, Nicholas Proud. We may come, touch and go, from atoms and ifs