Page 74

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honoured (some Finn, some Finn avant!), he skall wake from
earthsleep, haught crested elmer, in his valle of briers of Green-
man's Rise O, (lost leaders live! the heroes return!) and o'er dun
and dale the Wulverulverlord (protect us!) his mighty horn skall
roll, orland, roll.
    For in those deyes his Deyus shall ask of Allprohome 
and call to himm: Allprohome! And he make answer: Add some. 
Nor wink nor wunk. Animadiabolum, mene credidisti mortuum?
Silence was in thy faustive halls, O Truiga, when thy green
woods went dry but there will be sounds of manymirth on the
night's ear ringing when our pantriarch of Comestowntonobble
gets the pullover on his boots.
    Liverpoor? Sot a bit of it! His braynes coolt parritch, his pelt 
nassy, his heart's adrone, his bluidstreams acrawl, his puff but a
piff, his extremeties extremely so: Fengless, Pawmbroke, Chil-
blaimend and Baldowl. Humph is in his doge. Words weigh no
no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all
like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping.
Drain. Sdops.