semble and rolled oiled logs into Peter’s sawyery and werfed new woodcuts on Paoli’s wharf and ewesed Rachel’s lea and rammed Dominic’s gap and looked like bruddy Hal. A shelling a cockshy and be a mere tittle, trots off with his ancomartins to read in Tobecontinued’s tale that while blubles blows there’ll still be sealskers. There’ll be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night we are again! I am burned a rich egg and the queen was steep in armbour feeling fain and furry, the mayds was midst the haw- thorns shoeing up their penisills. The boufeither Soakersoon at holdup tent