burnt head high up in the wood are they doodling dawd- ling over the loose laubes of her massas behaving she would kiss my white arms for me down under piked forth desert roses in that 361 pig’s village smoke, a sixdigitarian legion on druid circle, the Clandibblon clam cartel, then pulled out and over; as a firstclass dealer and everything. Only for my comic strip, Mons Meg’s Monthly, comes out of my tears! Believe for me! Didn’t he now, Nubilina.^ Tiny Mite, she studiert whas.^ With her banbax hoist from holder, zig for zag through pool and polder, cheap, cheap, cheap and Laughing Jack, all