Page 177
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Jump to navigationJump to searchwottle at his feet to stoke his energy of waiting, moaning feebly,
in monkmarian monotheme, but tarned long and then a nation
louder, while engaged in swallowing from a large ampullar, that
his pawdry's purgatory was more than a nigger bloke could bear,
hemiparalysed by the tong warfare and all the shemozzle, (Daily
Maily, fullup Lace! Holy Maly, Mothelup Joss!) his cheeks and
trousers changing colour every time a gat croaked.
How is that for low, laities and gentlenuns? Why, dog of the
Crostiguns, whole continents rang with this Kairokorran low-
ness! Sheols of houris in chems upon divans, (revolted stellas
vespertine vesamong them) at a bare (O!) mention of the scaly
rybald exclaimed: Poisse!
But would anyone, short of a madhouse, believe it? Neither of
those clean little cherubum, Nero or Nobookisonester himself,
ever nursed such a spoiled opinion of his monstrous marvellosity
as did this mental and moral defective (here perhaps at the
vanessance of his lownest) who was known to grognt rather than
gunnard upon one occasion, while drinking heavily of spirits to
that interlocutor a latere and private privysuckatary he used to
pal around with, in the kavehazs, one Davy Browne-Nowlan, his
heavenlaid twin, (this hambone dogpoet pseudoed himself under
the hangname he gave himself of Bethgelert) in the porchway of
a gipsy's bar (Shem always blaspheming, so holy writ, Billy, he
would try, old Belly, and pay this one manjack congregant of
his four soups every lass of nexmouth, Bolly, so sure as thair's a
tail on a commet, as a taste for storik's fortytooth, that is to
stay, to listen out, ony twenny minnies moe, Bully, his Ballade
Imaginaire which was to be dubbed Wine, Woman and Water-
clocks, or How a Guy Finks and Fawkes When He Is Going Batty,
by Maistre Sheames de la Plume, some most dreadful stuff in a
murderous mirrorhand) that he was avoopf (parn me!) aware
of no other shaggspick, other Shakhisbeard, either prexactly
unlike his polar andthisishis or procisely the seem as woops
(parn!) as what he fancied or guessed the sames as he was him-
self and that, greet scoot, duckings and thuggery, though he was
foxed fux to fux like a bunnyboy rodger with all the teashop
