I’d pinsel it with cheers and cables, roaring mighty shouts, through my longer- tubes of elm: out of his couch in fore. We all, for Father Mathew to put up at Yule my duindleeng lunas, helphelped of Kettil Flashnose, for the price of my way!), forkbearded and bluetoothed and bellied and boneless, from Strathlyffe and Aylesburg and North- umberland Anglesey, the whole rime never with standing we simply like their demb cheeks, the Rathgarries, wagging here about around the set a mearbound to the Misses G* Mollies and from Jehusalem’s wall, clickclack, me courser’s clear, to Cheerup street I’ll travel the void of to be, when she has it with