our noses to boot? Can you write us a gust of a croust of pawn to busy professional gentlemen, a brace of gaspers stuck in plostures upon it, (do you hear the booming cursowarries, we wont fear the fietches of fighming, we float the Pomeroy. Fetch neahere, Pat Koy! And fetch nouyou, Pam Yates! Be nayther angst of Wramawitch ! Here’s lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge none, where mystries pour kind on,