Difference between revisions of "Page 102"
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(spudds on horeilles) |
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with her [[louisequean's]] [[brogues]] and her [[culunder buzzle]] and her | with her [[louisequean's]] [[brogues]] and her [[culunder buzzle]] and her | ||
little [[bolero boa]] and all and [[two times twenty]] [[curlicornies]] for her | little [[bolero boa]] and all and [[two times twenty]] [[curlicornies]] for her | ||
− | headdress, [[specks]] on her eyeux, and spudds on horeilles and a | + | headdress, [[specks]] on her eyeux, and [[spudds on horeilles]] and a |
circusfix riding her Parisienne's cockneze, a vaunt her straddle | circusfix riding her Parisienne's cockneze, a vaunt her straddle | ||
from Equerry Egon, when Tinktink in the churchclose clinked | from Equerry Egon, when Tinktink in the churchclose clinked |
Revision as of 11:20, 9 June 2006
is younger than thighne, my dear!) she who shuttered him after his fall and waked him widowt sparing and gave him keen and made him able and held adazillahs to each arche of his noes, she who will not rast her from her running to seek him till, with the help of the okeamic, some such time that she shall have been after hiding the crumbends of his enormousness in the areyou looking- for Pearlfar sea, (ur, uri, uria!) stood forth, burnzburn the gorg- gony old danworld, in gogor's name, for gagar's sake, dragging the countryside in her train, finickin here and funickin there, with her louisequean's brogues and her culunder buzzle and her little bolero boa and all and two times twenty curlicornies for her headdress, specks on her eyeux, and spudds on horeilles and a circusfix riding her Parisienne's cockneze, a vaunt her straddle from Equerry Egon, when Tinktink in the churchclose clinked Steploajazzyma Sunday, Sola, with pawns, prelates and pookas pelotting in her piecebag, for Handiman the Chomp, Esquoro, biskbask, to crush the slander's head. Wery weeny wight, plead for Morandmor! Notre Dame de la Ville, mercy of thy balmheartzyheat! Ogrowdnyk's beyond her- bata tay, wort of the drogist. Bulk him no bulkis. And let him rest, thou wayfarre, and take no gravespoil from him! Neither mar his mound! The bane of Tut is on it. Ware! But there's a little lady waiting and her name is A.L.P. And you'll agree. She must be she. For her holden heirheaps hanging down her back. He spenth his strenth amok haremscarems. Poppy Narancy, Gial- lia, Chlora, Marinka, Anileen, Parme. And ilk a those dames had her rainbow huemoures yet for whilko her whims but he coined a cure. Tifftiff today, kissykissy tonay and agelong pine tomauran- na. Then who but Crippled-with-Children would speak up for Dropping-with-Sweat? Sold him her lease of ninenineninetee, Tresses undresses so dyedyedaintee, Goo, the groot gudgeon, gulped it all. Hoo was the C. O. D.? Bum!