Difference between revisions of "Page 199"

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[[Page 198]] [[Page 200]]
 
[[Page 198]] [[Page 200]]
  
  debths in that mormon's thames, be questing and handsetl, hop,
+
  [[debths]] in that mormon's [[thames]], be questing and handsetl, hop,
 
  step and a deepend, with his berths in their toiling moil, his swal-
 
  step and a deepend, with his berths in their toiling moil, his swal-
 
  lower open from swolf to fore and the snipes of the gutter pecking
 
  lower open from swolf to fore and the snipes of the gutter pecking

Revision as of 15:22, 18 December 2005

TOC

Page 198 Page 200

debths in that mormon's thames, be questing and handsetl, hop,
step and a deepend, with his berths in their toiling moil, his swal-
lower open from swolf to fore and the snipes of the gutter pecking
his crocs, hungerstriking all alone and holding doomsdag over
hunselv, dreeing his weird, with his dander up, and his fringe
combed over his eygs and droming on loft till the sight of the
sternes, after zwarthy kowse and weedy broeks and the tits of
buddy and the loits of pest and to peer was Parish worth thette
mess. You'd think all was dodo belonging to him how he durmed
adranse in durance vaal. He had been belching for severn years.
And there she was, Anna Livia, she darent catch a winkle of
sleep, purling around like a chit of a child, Wendawanda, a finger-
thick, in a Lapsummer skirt and damazon cheeks, for to ishim
bonzour to her dear dubber Dan. With neuphraties and sault
from his maggias. And an odd time she'd cook him up blooms
of fisk and lay to his heartsfoot her meddery eygs, yayis, and
staynish beacons on toasc and a cupenhave so weeshywashy of
Greenland's tay or a dzoupgan of Kaffue mokau an sable or
Sikiang sukry or his ale of ferns in trueart pewter and a shin-
kobread (hamjambo, bana?) for to plaise that man hog stay his
stomicker till her pyrraknees shrunk to nutmeg graters while her
togglejoints shuck with goyt and as rash as she'd russ with her
peakload of vivers up on her sieve (metauwero rage it swales and
rieses) my hardey Hek he'd kast them frome him, with a stour
of scorn, as much as to say you sow and you sozh, and if he didn't
peg the platteau on her tawe, believe you me, she was safe
enough. And then she'd esk to vistule a hymn, The Heart Bowed
Down or The Rakes of Mallow or Chelli Michele's La Calumnia è
un Vermicelli or a balfy bit ov old Jo Robidson. Sucho fuffing a
fifeing 'twould cut you in two! She'd bate the hen that crowed
on the turrace of Babbel. What harm if she knew how to cockle
her mouth ! And not a mag out of Hum no more than out of the
mangle weight. Is that a faith? That's the fact. Then riding the
ricka and roya romanche, Annona, gebroren aroostokrat Nivia,
dochter of Sense and Art, with Sparks' pirryphlickathims funkl-
ing her fan, anner frostivying tresses dasht with virevlies,——