Page 501

TOC

Page 500 Page 502

     — Zinzin. 
     — Hello! Tittit! Tell your title? 
     — Abride! 
     — Hellohello! Ballymacarett! Am I thru' Iss? Miss? True? 
     — Tit! What is the ti . . ? 
  
 SILENCE. 
  
     Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots! 
     — Hello! Are you Cigar shank and Wheat? 
     — I gotye. Gobble Ann's Carrot Cans. 
     — Parfey. Now, after that justajiff siesta, just permit me a 
moment. Challenger's Deep is childsplay to this but, by our
soundings in the swish channels, land is due. A truce to demobbed
swarwords. Clear the line, priority call! Sybil! Better that or
this? Sybil Head this end! Better that way? Follow the baby spot.
Yes. Very good now. We are again in the magnetic field. Do
you remember on a particular lukesummer night, following a
crying fair day? Moisten your lips for a lightning strike and begin
again. Mind the flickers and dimmers! Better?
     — Well. The isles is Thymes. The ales is Penzance. Vehement 
Genral. Delhi expulsed.
     — Still calling of somewhave from its specific? Not more? 
Lesscontinuous. There were fires on every bald hill in holy
Ireland that night. Better so?
     — You may say they were, son of a cove! 
     — Were they bonfires? That clear? 
     — No other name would at all befit them unless that. Bona- 
fieries! With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.  
     — Was it a high white night now? 
     — Whitest night mortal ever saw. 
     — Was our lord of the heights nigh our lady of the valley? 
     — He was hosting himself up and flosting himself around and 
ghosting himself to merry her murmur like an andeanupper
balkan.
     — Lewd's carol! Was there rain by any chance, mistandew?