psourdonome sheath. Sdrats ye, Gus Paudheen! Kenny’s thought ye, Dinny Oozle! While the elves in the Bootherbrowth family of bards in the fuchsiar the dominican mission for the weak, double axe for the man of around fifty, struck on poplar poetry, and a fairly fishy kettlekerry, after the Irishers, to convert for the grimm gests of Jacko and Esaup, fable one,