Difference between revisions of "Page 462"

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[[Page 461]] [[Page 463]]
 
[[Page 461]] [[Page 463]]
  
  eucherised to yous. Also <I>sacr&eacute; p&egrave;re </I>and<I> ma&icirc;tre d'autel. </I>Well,
+
  [[eucherised]] to yous. Also <I>sacr&eacute; p&egrave;re </I>and<I> ma&icirc;tre d'autel. </I>Well,
 
  ladies upon gentlermen and toastmaster general, let us, brindising
 
  ladies upon gentlermen and toastmaster general, let us, brindising
 
  brandisong, woo and win womenlong with health to rich vine-
 
  brandisong, woo and win womenlong with health to rich vine-

Revision as of 22:19, 6 February 2018

TOC

Page 461 Page 463

eucherised to yous. Also sacré père and maître d'autel. Well,
ladies upon gentlermen and toastmaster general, let us, brindising
brandisong, woo and win womenlong with health to rich vine-
yards, Erin go Dry! Amingst the living waters of, the living in
giving waters of.  Tight! Loose! A stiff one for Staffetta mullified
with creams of hourmony, the coupe that's chill for jackless jill and
a filiform dhouche on Doris! Esterelles, be not on your weeping
what though Shaunathaun is in his fail! To stir up love's young
fizz I tilt with this bridle's cup champagne, dimming douce from
her peepair of hideseeks, tightsqueezed on my snowybrusted and
while my pearlies in their sparkling wisdom are nippling her
bubblets I swear (and let you swear!) by the bumper round of
my poor old snaggletooth's solidbowel I ne'er will prove I'm
untrue to your liking (theare!) so long as my hole looks. Down.
    So gullaby, me poor Isley! But I'm not for forgetting me 
innerman monophone for I'm leaving my darling proxy behind
for your consolering, lost Dave the Dancekerl, a squamous run-
away and a dear old man pal of mine too. He will arrive inces-
santly in the fraction of a crust, who, could he quit doubling and
stop tippling, he would be the unicorn of his kind. He's the
mightiest penumbrella I ever flourished on behond the shadow
of a post! Be sure and link him, me O treasauro, as often as you
learn provided there's nothing between you but a plain deal
table only don't encourage him to cry lessontimes over Lepers-
town. But soft! Can't be? Do mailstanes mumble? Lumtum
lumtum! Now! The froubadour! I fremble! Talk of wolf in a
stomach by all that's verminous! Eccolo me! The return of
th'athlate! Who can secede to his success! Isn't Jaunstown,
Ousterrike, the small place after all? I knew I smelt the garlic
leek! Why, bless me swits, here he its, darling Dave, like
the catoninelives just in time as if he fell out of space, all
draped in mufti, coming home to mourn mountains from his
old continence and not on one foot either or on two feet
aether but on quinquisecular cycles after his French evolution
and a blindfold passage by the 4.32 with the pork's pate in his
suicide paw and the gulls laughing lime on his natural skunk,