over, with her little white horse decks by dozens our doors; O sorrow the sail and woe the rudder that were four (up) beautiful sister misters, now happily buried, our four! And there they were bullbeadle black and bufeteer blue, while I stray and let this douche for you till you yelp papapardon and radden your rhodatantarums to the comer nor three shouts on a barstool, â– with some