’Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouse’s clogh. They took it asunder, I hurd thum sigh. When will the W.D. face of mine on mine. Flep! It’s what I’m doing. Spread! It’s churning chill- Der went is rising. I’ll lay a few perch to the wandering sons of red clover, nighty nigh to the level of the lound of the. Lukkedoerendunandurraskewdylooshoofermoyportertoo- ryzooysphalnabortansporthaokansakroidverjkapakkapuk. Byfall. Upploud! The play thou schouwburgst. Game, here endeth. The curtain drops by deep request. Uplouderamain !