Page 88
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Jump to navigationJump to searchby Waterhose's Meddle Europeic Time, near Stop and Think, high chief evervirens and only abfalltree in auld the land) there was not as much light from the widowed moon as would dim a child's altar. The mixer, accordingly, was bluntly broached, and in the best basel to boot, as to whether he was one of those lucky cocks for whom the audible-visible-gnosible-edible world existed. That he was only too cognitively conatively cogitabun- dantly sure of it because, living, loving, breathing and sleeping morphomelosophopancreates, as he most significantly did, when- ever he thought he heard he saw he felt he made a bell clipper- clipperclipperclipper. Whether he was practically sure too of his lugs and truies names in this king and blouseman business? That he was pediculously so. Certified? As cad could be. Be lying! Be the lonee I will. It was Morbus O' Somebody? A'Quite. Szer- day's Son? A satyr in weddens. And how did the greeneyed mister arrive at the B.A.? That it was like his poll. A cross- grained trapper with murty odd oogs, awflorated ares, inquiline nase and a twithcherous mouph? He would be. Who could bit you att to a tenyerdfuul when aastalled? Ballera jobbera. Some majar bore too? Iguines. And with tumblerous legs, redipnomii- nated Helmingham Erchenwyne Rutter Egbert C[[Crumwall|rumwall[[ Odin Maximus Esme Saxon Esa Vercingetorix 'E'thelwulf Rupprecht Ydwalla Bentley Osmund Dysart Yggdrasselmann? Holy Saint Eiffel, the very phoenix! It was Chudley Magnall once more between the deffodates and the dumb scene? The two childspies waapreesing him auza de Vologue but the renting of his rock was from the three wicked Vuncouverers Forests bent down awhits, arthou sure? Yubeti, Cumbilum comes! One of the ox- men's thingabossers, hvad? And had he been refresqued by the founts of bounty playing there —— is —— a —— pain —— aleland in Long's gourgling barral? A loss of Lordedward and a lack of sir- philip a surgeonet showeradown could suck more gargling bubbles out of the five lamps in Portterand's praise. Wirrgeling and maries? As whose wouldn't, laving his leaftime in Black- pool. But, of course, he could call himself Tem, too, if he had time to? You butt he could anytom. When he pleased? Win and
