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the Goat, that gafr, ate the Suenders bible. Hadn't we heaven's
lamps to hide us? Yet every lane had its lively spark and every
spark had its several spurtles and each spitfire spurtle had some
trick of her trade, a tease for Ned, nook's nestle for Fred and
a peep at me mow for Peer Pol. So that Father Matt Hughes
looked taytotally threbled. But Danno the Dane grimmed. Dune.
'Twere yeg will elsecare doatty lanv meet they dewscent hyemn
to cannons' roar and rifles' peal vill shantey soloweys sang! For
there were no more Tyrrhanees and for Laxembraghs was pass-
thecupper to Our Lader's. And it was dim upon the floods only
and there was day on all the ground.
     Thus street spins legends while wharves woves tales but some 
family fewd felt a nick in their name. Old Vickers sate down on
their airs and straightened the points of their lace. Red Rowleys
popped out of their lairs and asked what was wrong with the
race. Mick na Murrough used dripping in layers to shave
all the furze off his face. The Burke-Lees and Coyle-Finns
paid full feines for their sinns when the Cap and Miss Coolie
were roped.
     Rolloraped. 
     With her banbax hoist from holder, zig for zag through pool 
and polder, cheap, cheap, cheap and Laughing Jack, all augurs
scorenning, see the Bolche your pictures motion and Kitzy
Kleinsuessmein eloping for that holm in Finn's Hotel Fiord,
Nova Norening. Where they pulled down the kuddle and they
made fray and if thee don't look homey,well,that Dook can eye
Mae.
     He goat a berth. And she cot a manege. And wohl's gorse 
mundom ganna wedst.
     Knock knock. War's where! Which war? The Twwinns. 
Knock knock. Woos without! Without what? An apple. Knock
knock.
     The kilder massed, one then and uhindred, (harefoot, birdy- 
hands, herringabone, beesknees), and they barneydansked a
kathareen round to know the who and to show the howsome.
Why was you hiding, moder of moders? And where was hunty,