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 Palmwine breadfruit sweetmeat milksoup! Suasusopo!  However!
 Our people here in Somoanesia will not be forgetting you
 and the elders luking and marking the jornies, chalking up drizzle
 in drizzle out on the four bare mats.  How you would be thinking
 in thoughts how deepings did it all begin and how you
 would be scrimmaging through your scruples to collar a hold of
 an imperfection being committled. Sireland calls you. Mery Loye
 is saling moonlike. And Slyly mamourneen's ladymaid at Glads-
 house Lodge. Turn your coat, strong character, and tarry among
 us down the vale, yougander, only once more! And may the mosse
 of prosperousness gather you rolling home! May foggy dews be-
 diamondise your hooprings! May the fireplug of filiality reinsure
 your bunghole! May the barleywind behind glow luck to your
 bathershins! 'Tis well we know you were loth to leave us,
 winding your hobbledehorn, right royal post, but, aruah sure,
 pulse of our slumber, dreambookpage, by the grace of Votre
 Dame, when the natural morning of your nocturne blankmerges
 into the national morning of golden sunup and Don Leary gets
 his own back from old grog Georges Quartos as that goodship the
 Jonnyjoys takes the wind from waterloogged Erin's king, you
 will shiff across the Moylendsea and round up in your own
 escapology some canonisator's day or other, sack on back, alack!
 digging snow, (not so?) like the good man you are, with your
 picture pockets turned knockside out in the rake of the rain for
 fresh remittances and from that till this in any case, timus tenant,
 may the tussocks grow quickly under your trampthickets and
 the daisies trip lightly over your battercops.