Difference between revisions of "Page 248"
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flower that stars the day and is solly well worth your pilger's | flower that stars the day and is solly well worth your pilger's | ||
fahrt. Where there's a [[hitch]], a [[head of things]], let [[henker's halter]] | fahrt. Where there's a [[hitch]], a [[head of things]], let [[henker's halter]] | ||
| − | hang the halunkenend. For I see through your weapon. That | + | hang the [[halunkenend]]. For I see through your weapon. That |
cry's not Cucullus. And his eyelids are painted. If my tutor here | cry's not Cucullus. And his eyelids are painted. If my tutor here | ||
is cut out for an oldeborre I'm Flo, shy of peeps, you know. But | is cut out for an oldeborre I'm Flo, shy of peeps, you know. But | ||
Revision as of 21:03, 3 August 2016
quasimodo, royal, sago, tango, umber, vanilla, wisteria, xray,
yesplease, zaza, philomel, theerose. What are they all by? Shee.
If you nude her in her prime, make sure you find her comple-
mentary or, on your very first occasion, by Angus Dagdasson
and all his piccions, she'll prick you where you're proudest with
her unsatt speagle eye. Look sharp, she's signalling from among
the asters. Turn again, wistfultone, lode mere of Doubtlynn!
Arise, Land-under-Wave! Clap your lingua to your pallet, drop
your jowl with a jolt, tambourine until your breath slides, pet a
pout and it's out. Have you got me, Allysloper?
My top it was brought Achill's low, my middle I ope before
you, my bottom's a vulser if ever there valsed and my whole the
flower that stars the day and is solly well worth your pilger's
fahrt. Where there's a hitch, a head of things, let henker's halter
hang the halunkenend. For I see through your weapon. That
cry's not Cucullus. And his eyelids are painted. If my tutor here
is cut out for an oldeborre I'm Flo, shy of peeps, you know. But
when he beetles backwards, ain't I fly? Pull the boughpee to see
how we sleep. Bee Peep! Peepette! Would you like that lump of
a tongue for lungeon or this Turkey's delighter, hys hyphen
mys? My bellyswain's a twalf whulerusspower though he knows
as much how to man a wife as Dunckle Dalton of matching wools.
Shake hands through the thicketloch! Sweet swanwater! My
other is mouthfilled. This kissing wold's full of killing fellows
kneeling voyantly to the cope of heaven. And somebody's com-
ing, I feel for a fect. I've a seeklet to sell thee if old Deanns won't
be threaspanning. When you'll next have the mind to retire to
be wicked this is as dainty a way as any. Underwoods spells bush-
ment's business. So if you sprig poplar you're bound to twig this.
'Twas my lord of Glendalough benedixed the gape for me that
time at Long Entry, commanding the approaches to my intimast
innermost. Look how they're browthered! Six thirteens at
Blanche de Blanche's of 3 Behind Street and 2 Turnagain Lane.
Awabeg is my callby, Magnus here's my Max, Wonder One's my
cipher and Seven Sisters is my nighbrood. Radouga, Rab will ye
na pick them in their pink of panties. You can colour up till you're
