Difference between revisions of "Page 565"
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ness. Take that two piece big slap slap bold honty bottomsside | ness. Take that two piece big slap slap bold honty bottomsside | ||
pap pap pappa. | pap pap pappa. | ||
| − | + | —<I> [[Li ne dormis]]?</I> | |
| − | + | —<I> S! [[Malbone dormas]].</I> | |
| − | + | —<I> [[Kia li krias nikte]]?</I> | |
| − | + | —<I> [[Parolas infanetes]]. S!</I> | |
Sonly all in your imagination, dim. Poor little brittle magic | Sonly all in your imagination, dim. Poor little brittle magic | ||
nation, dim of mind! Shoe to me now, dear! Shoom of me! While | nation, dim of mind! Shoe to me now, dear! Shoom of me! While | ||
| Line 39: | Line 39: | ||
are telling the cobbles, the pickts are hacking the saxums, it's | are telling the cobbles, the pickts are hacking the saxums, it's | ||
snugger to burrow abed than ballet on broadway. Tuck in your | snugger to burrow abed than ballet on broadway. Tuck in your | ||
| − | |||
Revision as of 04:50, 22 December 2005
the pederestians, do not fail to point to yourself a depression
called Holl Hollow. It is often quite guttergloomering in our
duol and gives wankyrious thoughts to the head but the banders
of the pentapolitan poleetsfurcers bassoons into it on windy
woodensdays their wellbooming wolvertones. Ulvos! Ulvos!
Whervolk dorst ttou begin to tremble by our moving pictures
at this moment when I am to place my hand of our true friend-
shapes upon thee knee to mark well what I say? Throu shayest
who? In Amsterdam there lived a . . . But how? You are trem-
blotting, you retchad, like a verry jerry! Niet? Will you a gui-
neeser? Gaij beutel of staub? To feel, you? Yes, how it trembles,
the timid! Vortigern, ah Gortigern! Overlord of Mercia! Or
doth brainskin flinchgreef? Stemming! What boyazhness! Sole
shadow shows. Tis jest jibberweek's joke. It must have stole. O,
keve silence, both! Putshameyu! I have heard her voice some-
where else's before me in these ears still that now are for mine.
Let op. Slew musies. Thunner in the eire.
You were dreamend, dear. The pawdrag? The fawthrig?
Shoe! Hear are no phanthares in the room at all, avikkeen. No
bad bold faathern, dear one. Opop opop capallo, muy malinchily
malchick! Gothgorod father godown followay tomollow the
lucky load to Lublin for make his thoroughbass grossman's big-
ness. Take that two piece big slap slap bold honty bottomsside
pap pap pappa.
— Li ne dormis?
— S! Malbone dormas.
— Kia li krias nikte?
— Parolas infanetes. S!
Sonly all in your imagination, dim. Poor little brittle magic
nation, dim of mind! Shoe to me now, dear! Shoom of me! While
elvery stream winds seling on for to keep this barrel of bounty
rolling and the nightmail afarfrom morning nears.
When you're coaching through Lucalised, on the sulphur spa
to visit, it's safer to hit than miss it, stop at his inn! The hammers
are telling the cobbles, the pickts are hacking the saxums, it's
snugger to burrow abed than ballet on broadway. Tuck in your
