View source for Page 341

[[TOC]]

[[Page 340]] [[Page 342]]

 aureolies. We should say you dones the polecad. Bang on the
 booche, gurg in the gorge, rap on the roof and your flup is unbu...
    BUTT (<I>at the signal of his act which seems to sharpnel his</I>
 <I>innermals menody, playing the spool of the little brown jog round the</I>
 <I>wheel of her whang goes the millner</I>). Buckily buckily, blodestained
 boyne! Bimbambombumb. His snapper was shot in the Rumjar
 Journaral. Why the gigls he lubbed beeyed him.	
    TAFF (<I>obliges with a two stop yogacoga sumphoty on the bones for ivory</I>
 <I>girl and ebony boy</I>). The balacleivka! [[Trovatarovitch]]! I trumble!
    BUTT (<I>with the [[sickle of a scygthe but the humour of a hummer]], O,</I>
 <I>howorodies through his cholaroguled, fumfing to a fullfrength with</I>
 <I>this wallowing olfact</I>). Mortar martar tartar wartar! May his
 boules grow wider so his skittles gets worse! The aged monad
 making a venture out of the murder of investment. I seen him
 acting surgent what betwinks the scimitar star and the ashen
 moon. By their lights shalthow throw him! Piff paff for puffpuff
 and my pife for his cgar! The mlachy way for gambling.
       [<I>Up to this curkscraw bind an admirable verbivocovisual pre- </I>
 <I>   sentment of the worldrenownced Caerholme Event has been being </I>
 <I>   given by</I> The Irish Race and World.<I> The huddled and aliven stable- </I>
 <I>   crashers have shared fleetfooted enthusiasm with the paddocks </I>
 <I>   dare and ditches tare while the mews was combing ground. Hippo- </I>
 <I>   hopparray helioscope flashed winsor places as the gates might see. </I>
 <I>   Meusdeus! That was (with burning briar) Mr Twomass Noho- </I>
 <I>   holan for their common contribe satisfunction in the purports of </I>
 <I>   amusedment telling the Verily Roverend Father Epiphanes </I>
 <I>   shrineshriver of Saint Dhorough's (in browne bomler) how </I>
 <I>   (assuary as there's a bonum in your osstheology!) Backlegs </I>
 <I>   shirked the racing kenneldar. The saintly scholarist's roastering </I>
 <I>   guffalawd of nupersaturals holler at this metanoic excomologosis </I>
 <I>   tells of the chestnut's (once again, Wittyngtom!) absolutionally </I>
 <I>   romptyhompty successfulness. A lot of lasses and lads without </I>
 <I>   damas or dads, but fresh and blued with collecting boxes. One </I>
 <I>   aught spare ones triflets, to be shut: it is Coppingers for the </I>
 <I>   children. Slippery Sam hard by them, physically present how- </I>