Page 319
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Jump to navigationJump to searchnight for my lifting. Hillyhollow, valleylow! With the sounds
and the scents in the morning.
I shot be shoddied, throttle me, fine me cowheel for ever,
usquebauched the ersewild aleconner, for bringing briars to Bem-
bracken and ringing rinbus round Demetrius for, as you wrinkle
wryghtly, bully bluedomer, it's a suirsite's stircus haunting hes-
teries round old volcanoes. We gin too gnir and thus plinary
indulgence makes collemullas of us all. But Time is for talerman
tasting his tap. Tiptoptap, Mister Maut.
He made one summery (Cholk and murble in lonestime) of his
the three swallows like he was muzzling Moselems and torched
up as the faery pangeant fluwed down the hisophenguts, a slake
for the quicklining, to the tickle of his tube and the twobble of
his fable, O, fibbing once upon a spray what a queer and queasy
spree it was. Plumped.
Which both did. Prompt. Eh, chrystal holder? Save Ampster-
dampster that had rheumaniscences in his netherlumbs.
By the drope in his groin, Ali Slupa, thinks the cappon,
plumbing his liners, we were heretofore.
And be the coop of his gobbos, Reacher the Thaurd, thinks
your girth fatter, apopo of his buckseaseilers, but where's Horace's
courtin troopsers?
I put hem behind the oasthouse, sagd Pukkelsen, tuning
wound on the teller, appeased to the cue, that double dyode
dealered, and he's wallowing awash swill of the Tarra water. And
it marinned down his gargantast trombsathletic like the marousers of
the gulpstroom. The kersse of Wolafs on him, shitateyar, he sagd in
the fornicular, and, at weare or not at weare, I'm sigen no stretcher,
for I carsed his murhersson goat in trotthers with them newbuckle-
noosers behigh in the fire behame in the oasthouse. Hops! sagd he.
Smoke and coke choke! lauffed till the tear trickled drown a
thigh the loafers all but a sheep's whosepants that swished to the
lord he hadn't and the starer his story was talled to who felt that,
the fierifornax being thurst on him motophosically, as Omar
sometime notes, such a satuation, debauchly to be watched for,
would empty dempty him down to the ground.
