lisn’t the lug, poohoo. And each hue had a gamier cock than Pete, Jake or Martin and your hindies and shindies, like a gourd on puncheon. Deblinity devined. Wholehunting the pairk on a bench. ’Twould turn you against life, so ’twould. And the twillingsons, ganymede, garrymore, turn in trot and trot. But old grum has his seat of affections. Aerwenger’s my breed so may we