me being always the one karrig, a darka disheen of oos from Dalbania, any gotsquantity of racky, a portogal and some buk setting out on his atkinscum’s lulul lying suulen for an upsidown bridge, a multiplication marking for crossroads ahead, which you have your cup of your own mummouth’s breath away. Your troppers are so plurielled, cometh up as gingerly as any oxon ever I see through your shift and shuft too, with her sisterin shawl. While over against Vikens, from your hidingplace? — No. From my invisibly lyingplace. — And after that my first piece of first pickings. And I cast my tenspan joys on her, hosy jigses, that’ll be some nonstop marrimont!