Difference between revisions of "Page 172"
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vice out of bridewell was a bad fast man by his walk on the | vice out of bridewell was a bad fast man by his walk on the | ||
spot. | spot. | ||
| − | + | [Johns is a different butcher's. Next place you are up town pay | |
him a visit. Or better still, come tobuy. You will enjoy cattlemen's | him a visit. Or better still, come tobuy. You will enjoy cattlemen's | ||
spring meat. Johns is now quite divorced from baking. Fattens, | spring meat. Johns is now quite divorced from baking. Fattens, | ||
| Line 29: | Line 29: | ||
spluched, do something, [[Fireless]]. And had answer: Inconvenient, | spluched, do something, [[Fireless]]. And had answer: Inconvenient, | ||
David. | David. | ||
| − | + | You see, chaps, it will trickle out, freaksily of course, but the | |
tom and the shorty of it is: he was in his bardic memory low. | tom and the shorty of it is: he was in his bardic memory low. | ||
All the time he kept on treasuring with condign satisfaction each | All the time he kept on treasuring with condign satisfaction each | ||
Revision as of 10:53, 5 December 2005
mer desh to tren, into Patatapapaveri's, fruiterers and musical florists, with his Ciaho, chavi! Sar shin, shillipen? she knew the vice out of bridewell was a bad fast man by his walk on the spot. [Johns is a different butcher's. Next place you are up town pay him a visit. Or better still, come tobuy. You will enjoy cattlemen's spring meat. Johns is now quite divorced from baking. Fattens, kills, flays, hangs, draws, quarters and pieces. Feel his lambs ! Ex ! Feel how sheap! Exex! His liver too is great value, a spatiality! Exexex! COMMUNICATED.] Around that time, moravar, one generally, for luvvomony hoped or at any rate suspected among morticians that he would early turn out badly, develop hereditary pulmonary T.B., and do for himself one dandy time, nay, of a pelting night blanketed creditors, hearing a coarse song and splash off Eden Quay sighed and rolled over, sure all was up, but, though he fell heavily and locally into debit, not even then could such an antinomian be true to type. He would not put fire to his cerebrum; he would not throw himself in Liffey; he would not explaud himself with pneumantics; he refused to saffrocake himself with a sod. With the foreign devil's leave the fraid born fraud diddled even death. Anzi, cabled (but shaking the worth out of his maulth: Guarda- costa leporello? Szasas Kraicz!) from his Nearapoblican asylum to his jonathan for a brother: Here tokay, gone tomory, we're spluched, do something, Fireless. And had answer: Inconvenient, David. You see, chaps, it will trickle out, freaksily of course, but the tom and the shorty of it is: he was in his bardic memory low. All the time he kept on treasuring with condign satisfaction each and every crumb of trektalk, covetous of his neighbour's word, and if ever, during a Munda conversazione commoted in the nation's interest, delicate tippits were thrown out to him touch- ing his evil courses by some wellwishers, vainly pleading by scriptural arguments with the opprobrious papist about trying to brace up for the kidos of the thing, Scally wag, and be a men instead of a dem scrounger, dish it all, such as: Pray, what is
