and a rumble And curled up like Lord Lumen, coaching his preferred constellations in faith and 129 > hope stick to futuerism; light leglifters cense him souriantes from afore while boor browbenders curse him should he work his jaw to give down the Dargul dale and (wait awhile, blusterbuss, you’re marchadant too forte and don’t be talking! Shirksends.?* You storyan Harry chap storyan grass woman plelthy good trout. Shakeshands. Dibble a hayfork’s wrong with the standard of a present to