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Paza! Paisy! Irine! Areinette! Bridomay! Bentamai! Soso-
sopky! Bebebekka! Bababadkessy! Ghugugoothoyou! Dama!
Damadomina! Takiya! Tokaya! Scioccara! Siuccherillina! Peoc-
chia! Peucchia! Ho Mi Hoping! Ha Me Happinice! Mirra! My-
rha! Solyma! Salemita! Sainta! Sianta! O Peace!), but in self-
righting the balance of his corporeity to reexchange widerem-
brace with the pillarbosom of the Dizzier he loved prettier, be-
tween estellos and venoussas, bad luck to the lie but when next
to nobody expected, their star and gartergazer at the summit of
his climax, he toppled a lipple on to the off and, making a brand-
new start for himself to run down his easting, by blessing hes
sthers with the sign of the southern cross, his bungaloid borsa-
line with the hedgygreen bound blew off in a loveblast (award
for trover!) and Jawjon Redhead, bucketing after, meccamaniac,
(the headless shall have legs!), kingscouriered round with an easy
rush and ready relays by the bridge a stadion beyond Ladycastle
(and what herm but he narrowly missed fouling her buttress for
her but for he acqueducked) and then, cocking a snook at the
stock of his sermons, so mear and yet so fahr from that region's
general, away with him at the double, the hulk of a garron,
pelting after the road, on Shanks's mare, let off like a wind hound
loose (the bouchal! you'd think it was that moment they gave
him the jambos!) with a posse of tossing hankerwaves to his
windward like seraph's summonses on the air and a tempest of
good things in packetshape teeming from all accounts into the
funnel of his fanmail shrimpnet, along the highroad of the
nation, Traitor's Track, following which fond floral fray he was
quickly lost to sight through the statuemen though without a
doubt he was all the more on that same head to memory dear
while Sickerson, that borne of bjoerne, la garde auxiliaire she
murmured, hellyg Ursulinka, full of woe (and how fitlier should
goodboy's hand be shook than by the warmin of her besom
that wrung his swaddles?):Where maggot Harvey kneeled till bags?
Ate Andrew coos hogdam farvel!
   Wethen, now, may the good people speed you, rural Haun,
export stout fellow that you are, the crooner born with sweet