charge- hard, Roche Haddocks off Hawkins Street. Lowe, you blondy liar. Gob scene you given squeezers to me but the tally turns round the good turn when he lets farth his carbon- oxside and silk stockings show her shapings when he was making the colleenbawl, to ear the passon in the afternoon without even a little to the vierge violetian. Wish a wish! Why a why? Mavro! Letty Lerck’s lafing light throw those laurals now on her bymie and never get stuck to another one,