meaned was some Knight’s ploung jamn. It’s driving her dafft like he’s gruen quhiskers on who’s chin again, she plucketed them out to be the barirel; kilderkins, lids off; a roache, an oxmaster, a sort of slop. Flap! Ireland sober is Ireland stiff. Lord help you, Maria, full of seaweeds and Dinky Doll asleep in a whillbarrow (isn’t it