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hurricanes in our Cohortyard, no cupahurling nor apuckalips
nor no puncheon jodelling nor no nothing. With the Byrns
which is far better and eve for ever your idle be. You will hardly
reconnoitre the old wife in the new bustle and the farmer shinner
in his latterday paint. It's the fulldress Toussaint's wakeswalks
experdition after a bail motion from the chamber of horrus.
Saffron buns or sovran bonhams whichever you'r avider to like
it and lump it, but give it a name. Iereny allover irelands. And
there's food for refection when the whole flock's at home. Hog-
manny di'yegut? Hogmanny di'yesmellygut? And hogmanny
di'yesmellyspatterygut? You take Joe Hanny's tip for it! Post-
martem is the goods. With Jollification a tight second. Toborrow
and toburrow and tobarrow! That's our crass, hairy and ever-
grim life, till one finel howdiedow Bouncer Naster raps on the
bell with a bone and his stinkers stank behind him with the
sceptre and the hourglass. We may come, touch and go, from
atoms and ifs but we're presurely destined to be odd's without
ends. Here we moult in Moy Kain and flop on the seemy side,
living sure of hardly a doorstep for a stopgap, with Whogoes-
there and a live sandbag round the corner. But upmeyant, Pro-
spector, you sprout all your abel and woof your wings dead
certain however of neuthing whatever to aye forever while
Hyam Hyam's in the chair. Ah, sure, pleasantries aside, in the tail
of the cow what a humpty daum earth looks our miseryme here-
today as compared beside the Hereweareagain Gaieties of the
Afterpiece when the Royal Revolver of these real globoes lets
regally fire of his mio colpo for the chrisman's pandemon to give
over and the Harlequinade to begin properly SPQueaRking
Mark Time's Finist Joke. Putting Allspace in a Notshall.
    Well, the slice and veg joint's well in its way, and so is a 
ribroast and jackknife as sporten dish, but home cooking every-
time.  Mountains good mustard and, with the helpings of ladies'
lickfings and gentlemen's relish, I've eaten a griddle. But I fill
twice as stewhard what I felt before when I'm after eating a few
natives. The crisp of the crackling is in the chawing. Give us an-
other cup of your scald. Santos Mozos! That was a damn good