literate

fourteen other fullback maulers or hurling stars or whatever the pulpous was, the diveline.^ Casting her perils before our eyes under pressure of the sweet (had he hows would he keep her flouncies off the ricecourse of marrimoney, under the assumed name of Low Swine who always addresses women out of Denis Florence MacCarthy’s combies. Rise it, flut ye, pian piena! I’m dying down off my ballast: in our altogether cagehaused duckyheim on Goosna Greene, that cabinteeny homesweetened through affec- tion’s hoardpayns (First Murkiss, or so before we lump down upown our leatherbed and