Page 250

From FinnegansWiki
Revision as of 17:47, 4 August 2016 by Msclguru (talk | contribs)
Jump to navigationJump to search

TOC

Page 249 Page 251

arose. Avis was there and trilled her about it. She's her sex, for
certain. So to celebrate the occasion:
         Willest thou rossy banders havind? 
    He simules to be tight in ribbings round his rumpffkorpff. 
         Are you Swarthants that's hit on a shorn stile? 
    He makes semblant to be swiping their chimbleys. 
         Can you ajew ajew fro' Sheidam? 
    He finges to be cutting up with a pair of sissers and to be buy- 
tings of their maidens and spitting their heads into their facepails.
    Spickspuk! Spoken. 
    So now be hushy, little pukers! Side here roohish, cleany fug- 
lers! Grandicellies, all stay zitty! Adultereux, rest as befour! For
you've jollywelly dawdled all the day. When ye coif tantoncle's
hat then'll be largely temts for that. Yet's the time for being now,
now, now.
    For a burning would is come to dance inane. Glamours hath 
moidered's lieb and herefore Coldours must leap no more. Lack
[[breath must leap no more.
    Lel lols for libelman libling his lore. Lolo Lolo liebermann you 
loved to be leaving Libnius. Lift your right to your Liber Lord.
Link your left to your lass of liberty. Lala Lala, Leapermann,
your lep's but a loop to lee.
    A fork of hazel o'er the field in vox the verveine virgins ode. 
If you cross this rood as you roamed the rand I'm blessed but
you'd feel him a blasting rod. Behind, me, frees from evil smells!
Perdition stinks before us.
    Aghatharept they fleurelly to Nebnos will and Rosocale. Twice 
is he gone to quest of her, thrice is she now to him. So see we so
as seed we sow. And their prunktqueen kilt her kirtles up and
set out. And her troup came heeling, O. And what do you think
that pride was drest in! Voolykins' diamondinah's vestin. For ever
they scent where air she. went. While all the fauns' flares widens
wild to see a floral's school.
    Led by Lignifer, in four hops of the happiest, ach beth cac duff, 
a marrer of the sward incoronate, the few fly the farbetween!
We haul minymony on that piebold nig. Will any tubble dabble