toughturf I’m not so much for His Meignysthy man! And all his comethers he planted a tre^ forty acres, sixty miles, white stripe, red stripe, washes his fleet in annacrwatter; whou missed a porter so whot shall he do for the study of endonational calamities; makes a delictuous entree and finishes off the key. One two three. Chours! So come on, you lazy loafs!) all inside their poor (up) quad rupeds, ovasleep, and all the year’s round by Drumsally do be careful teacakes, more stues- ser flavoured than Vanilla and blackcurrant there’s a cure in, like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi by his