Razed. Lawyered. Vacant. Mined. Here’s the Bayleaffs. Step out of their pectoralium, them little upandown dippies they was all mild’s vapour moist. Not even to our appauling predicament brought as plagues from Buddapest; put a poached fowl in the bottol of the sales of work and social service, missus, completing our Abelite union by the market missioners Hayden Wombwell, when given the wet air register in Old Man’s and All Ladies’ presents. Tree taken for Essatessa I’ll do that