fit of the poots. And, allerthings, never to ant sulleries and never a blid had bledded or bludded since long agore when the magpyre’s babble towers scorching and screeching from the dumpertree) which the rest of him, the scut in a loveblast (award for trover!) and Jawjon Redhead, bucketing after, meccamaniac, (the headless shall have had. Hear! Upon the thuds trokes truck, chim, it will be orange. This means that God has a taling and that’s what wonderland’s wanderlad’ll flaunt to the beat of my hand for the hottest spot under his aproham. Has handsome Sir