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 Why, they might be Babau and Momie! Yipyip! To [[pan]]! To
 pan! To tinpinnypan. All folly me yap to Curlew! Give us a pin
 for her and we'll call it a tossup. Can you reverse positions?
 Lets have a fuchu all round, courting cousins! Quuck, the duck
 of a woman for quack, the drake of a man, her little live apples
 [[for Leas]] and love potients for Leos, the next beast king. Put
 me down for all ringside seats. I can feel you being corrupted.
 Recoil. I can see you sprouting scruples. Get back. And as
 he's boiling with water I'll light your pyre. Turn about, skeezy
 Sammy, out of metaphor, till we feel are you still tropeful
 of popetry. Told you so. If you doubt of his love of darearing
 his feelings you'll very much hurt for mishmash mastufractured
 on europe you can read off the tail of his. Rip ripper rippest and
 jac jac jac. Dwell on that, my hero and lander! That's the side
 that appeals to em, the wring wrong way to wright woman. Shuck
 her! Let him! What he's good for. Shuck her more! Let him
 again! All she wants! Could you wheedle a staveling encore out
 of your imitationer's jubalharp, hey, Mr Jinglejoys? Congrega-
 tional singing. Rota rota ran the pagoda <I>con dio in capo ed il dia</I>-
 <I>volo in coda.</I> Many a diva devoucha saw her Dauber Dan at the
 priesty pagoda Rota ran. Uck! He's so sedulous to singe always
 if prumpted, the mirthprovoker! Grunt unto us, I pray, your fore-
 boden article in our own deas dockandoilish introducing the
 death of Nelson with coloraturas!<I> Coraio, fra!</I> And I'll string
 second to harmanize. My loaf and pottage neaheaheahear Ro-
 chelle. With your dumpsey diddely dumpsey die, fiddeley fa.
 <I>Diavoloh!</I> Or come on, schoolcolours, and we'll scrap, rug and
 mat and then be as chummy as two bashed spuds. Bitrial bay
 holmgang or betrayal buy jury. Attaboy! [[Fee gate has Heenan hoity, mind uncle Hare?|Fee gate has Heenan
]][[Fee gate has Heenan hoity, mind uncle Hare?|hoity, mind uncle Hare?]] What, sir? Poss, myster? Acheve! Thou,
 thou! What say ye? <I>Taurus periculosus, morbus pedeiculosus.</I>
 <I>Miserere mei in miseribilibus!</I> There's uval lavguage for you! The
 tower is precluded, the mob's in her petticoats; Mr R. E. Meehan
 is in misery with his billyboots. Begob, there's not so much
 green in his Ireland's eye! Sweet fellow ovocal, he stones out of
 stune. But he could be near a colonel with a voice like that. The