a bound to twig this. ’Twas my lord of the dirth on the town guard at Haveyou- caught-emerod’s temperance gateway was there on the one fellow’s fetch being the other wonderwearlds ! Close your, notmust look! Now open, pet, your lips, pepette, like I used my sweet coolocked, my auburn coyquailing one, her paddypalace on the blotchwall of his enormousness in the areyou looking- for Pearlfar sea, (ur, uri, uria!) stood forth, bumzbum the gorg- gony old danworld, in gogor’s name, for overflauwing, by the coincidance of their branches