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wail of evoker, healing music, ay, and heart in hand of Sham-
rogueshire! The googoos of the suckabolly in the rockabeddy are
become the copiosity of wiseableness of the friarylayman in the
pulpitbarrel. May your bawny hair grow rarer and fairer, our own
only wideheaded boy! Rest your voice! Feed your mind! Mint
your peas!  Coax your qyous! Come to disdoon blarmey and
walk our groves so charming and see again the sweet rockelose
where first you hymned O Ciesa Mea! and touch the light the-
orbo! Songster, angler, choreographer! Piper to prisoned! Musi-
cianship made Embrassador-at-Large! Good by nature and
natural by design, had you but been spared to us, Hauneen lad,
but sure where's the use my talking quicker when I know you'll
hear me all astray? My long farewell I send to you, fair dream of
sport and game and always something new. Gone is Haun! My
grief, my ruin! Our Joss-el-Jovan! Our Chris-na-Murty! 'Tis well
you'll be looked after from last to first as yon beam of light we
follow receding on your photophoric pilgrimage to your anti-
podes in the past, you who so often consigned your distributory
tidings of great joy into our nevertoolatetolove box, mansuetudi-
nous manipulator, victimisedly victorihoarse, dearest Haun of
all, you of the boots, true as adie, stepwalker, pennyatimer,
lampaddyfair, postanulengro, our rommanychiel! Thy now pal-
ing light lucerne we ne'er may see again. But could it speak how
nicely would it splutter to the four cantons praises be to thee,
our pattern sent! For you had      may I, in our, your and their
names, dare to say it?      the nucleus of a glow of a zeal of soul
of service such as rarely, if ever, have I met with single men.
Numerous are those who, nay, there are a dozen of folks still
unclaimed by the death angel in this country of ours today,
humble indivisibles in this grand continuum, overlorded by fate
and interlarded with accidence, who, while there are hours and
days, will fervently pray to the spirit above that they may never
depart this earth of theirs till in his long run from that place
where the day begins, ere he retourneys postexilic, on that day
that belongs to joyful Ireland, the people that is of all time, the
old old oldest, the young young youngest, after decades of