FINNEGANS WAKE

Typescript

2nd typescript, August-September 1938, II.4§2 draft level 8

MS British Library 47481 107, 113-132 Draft details

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|s8

º Three quarks for Muster Mark!º
Sure he hasn't got much of a bark
And sure any he has it's all beside the mark

But,º Oº Wreneagle Almighty,º wouldn't un be a sky of a lark
To see that old buzzard whooping about for uns shirt in the dark
And he hunting round for uns speckled trousers around by Palmerston Park?
º
Hohohoho,º moulty Mark!º
You're the rummest old rooster ever flopped out of a Noah's ark
And you think you're cock of the wark.

Fowls up Tristy's the spry young spark
That'll tread her and wed her and bed her and red her
Without even
º winking the tail of a feather
And that's how that chap's going to make his money and mark!
º
s8|

|s8|aOver them the winged ones screamed shrill glee: That song sang seaswans. The |sbwinged wingingsb| ones, overhoved, shrillgleescreaming.ºa| |aseahawk Seahawka|, seagull, curlew and plover, kestrel and capercailzieº. All the birds of the sea they trolled out rightbold when they smacked the big kuss of Trustan with Usolde.s8|

And there they were too|8, |awhen it was dark,a| whilst the wine whiltesº the wildcaps was circling, |aas slow their ship, the winds aslight, |bupon upborneb| the fates, the wardorse moved, by courtesy of Mr Deaubaleau Dowbellowº Kaempersally,a|8| listening in as hard as they could in Dubbeldorp the donker by the tourneyold of the wattarfialls with their vuoxens and they kemin in so hattajocky (only a
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quarterbuck askull for the last acts) to the solans and sycamores and the wild geese and gannets and the migratories and mistlethrushes and the auspices and all the birds of the |8|arockby sucker assousyoceanal rockbysuckerassousyoceanala|8| sea, all four of them, all sighing and sobbing, and listening. |8Moykle ahoykling!8|

They were the big four, the four maaster waves of Erin, all listening, four. There was old Matt Gregory and then besides old Matt there was old
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Marcus Lyons, the four waves, and oftentimes they used to be saying grace together right enough Bausnabeatha, in Miracle Squeer: here now we are the four of us: old Matt Gregory and old Marcus and old Luke Tarpey: the four of us and sure thank God there are no more of us: and sure now you wouldn't go and forget and leave out the other fellow and old Johnny MacDougall: the four of us and no more of us and so now pass the fish for Christ' sake, Amen: the way they used to be saying their grace before fish repeating itself |8|xafter the interims of Ausgubarrghx|8| for auld lang syne. And so there they were with their palms in their hands like the pulchrum's proculs, spraining their ears luistering and listening to the oceans of kissening with their eyes glistening all the four when he was kiddling and cuddling |8and bunnyhugging scrumptious8| his colleen bawn |8and dinkum belle8|, an oscar sister, |8on the fifteen inch loveseat, behind the chieftainessº stewardess'sº cabinº,8| the hero, |8of Gaelic champion, |a|bthe onliest one of her choice, |cher |dblaueyedeal bleaueyedeald| of a girl's friend,c| meaning pretty neither big ugly nor small nice, meaning pretty much everything to her thenº,b| with his sinister dexterity, lightandrufthandlingº her ragbags and as assaucyetiamsº, fore and aft, on and offsides, the brineburntº sexfutter, |bhant handson and huntsem,b|a|8| that was |8very palpably8| wrong and |8most bulbubly8| improper, and cuddling her and kissing her, |8tootyfay charmaunt,º in her ensemble of maidenna blue, with an overdress of net,º tickled with goldies,8| Isolamisola, and whisping and lisping her about Trisolanisans, how one was whips for one was two and two was lips for one was three|8, and dissimulating themself,8| with his poghue like Arrah-na-poghue, the dear dear annual, they all four remembored who made the world and how they used to be at that time in the vulgar era
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cuddling and kiddling her after an oyster supper in Cullen's barn from under her mistlethrush and kissing and listening in the good old bygone days of Dion Boucicault the elder in Arrah-na-poghue, the otherworld of the passing of the key of Twotongue Common, with Nush, the carrier of the word, and with Mesh, the cutter of the reed, in one of the farback pitchblack centuries when who made the world when they knew O'Clery, the man on the door, when they were all four collegians on the nod, neer the Nodderlands Nurskery, whiteboys and oakboys, peep of day boys and piping tom boys, raising hell while the sin was shining, with their slates and satchels playing Florian's fables and communic suctions and vellicar frictions with mixum members in the queen's Ultonian colleges along with another fellow, a prime number, Totius Quotius, and paying a pot of tribluts to Boris O'Brien, the buttler of Clumpthump, two looves, two turnovers plus (one) crown, to see the mad dane ating his vitals. |8Wulf! Wulf!º And throwing his tongue in the snakepit.8| Ah ho! |8The ladies have mercias!8| It brought the dear
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prehistoric scenes all back again as fresh as of yore, Matt and Marcus, |8in plaint of fact natural born lovers of nature, in all her moves and senses,8| and after that now there he was|8, that mouth of mandiblesº vowed to pure beauty,8| and his Arrah-na-poghue |8when she murmurously, after she let a cough, gave her firm order if he wouldn't please mind for a sings to one hope a dozen of the best |afavouritea| lyrical national blooms, in |aLuvallicit Luvillicita|, though not too much, reflecting on the situation, drinking in draughts of purest air serene and revelling in the great outdoors,8| before the four of them|8, in the fair fine night, whilst the stars shine bright, by the light of the moon, she longed to spoon, before her honeyoldm honeyoldloonº, the plaint effect being in point of fact |athe being ina| the wholeº |asituation, seatution,a|8| so shocking and scandalous and now thank God there were no more of them and he poghuing and poghuing like the Moreigner bowed his crusted hoed and Tilly the tailor's tugged a tar in the Arctic Newses Dagsdogs number and there they were|8, like a foremasters in the rolls8| listening, |8to Rolando's deepen darblun Ossian rollº (Lady, it was just too gorgeous, that expense of a
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lovely tint, embellished by the charms of art and very well conducted and nicely mannered and all the horrid rudy noisies locked up in nasty cubbyhole!),º
8| as tired as they were, the three jolly topers, with their mouths watering along with the other fellow so pass the poghue for Christ' sake, Amen. Listening and poghuing and watering, all the four, the old connubial men of the sea, |8|xyambing around with their old pantometer, in duckasaloppics,x|8| Luke and Johnny MacDougall, |8|x|~and doubtnot ameeting~|x|8| and all wishening for anything at all of the bygone times, the wald times and the fald times and the times and the times, for a cup of kindness yet, for four farback tumblerfuls of woman squash with them all four listening and spraining their ears for the millennium and all their mouths making water.

Johnny. Ah well sure that's the way (up) and it so happened there was poor Matt Gregory (up), their paterfamilias, and (up) the others and now really and (up) truly they were four dear old heladies and really they looked |8awfully pretty and8| so nice and bespectable with their grey half a tall hat and tailormade frock coat and after that they had their fathomglasses to find out all the fathoms and their half a tall hat just now like the old marquess of Powerscourt, the determined old despot (quiescents in brage!), only for the extrusion of the saltwater or the auctioneer there dormont in front of the place near O'Clery's beside that ancient Dame street where the statue of Mrs Dana O'Connell prostituent behind the Trinity college that arranges all the auctions of the valuable colleges, Battersby Sisters, like the auctioneer Battersby Sisters, the prumisceous creaters, that sells all the emancipated statues and flowersports,
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James H. Tickell, the jaypee, off Hoggin Green after he made the centuries going to the tailturn horse show before the angler nomads flood along with another fellow, active impalsive, and the shoeblacks and the redshanks and plebeians and the barrancos and the cappunchers childerun, Jules, Franz, Xavies and Polidors, everyone, Gotopoxy, |8with the houghers on them,8| highstepping the fissure and fracture lines to get out of his way, |8onasmuck as their withers conditions could not possibly have been improved uponº (praisers be to deeseesee!),º8| like hopolopocattls erumping oround their Fudgity Yaman, and all the tercentenary horses and priesthunters
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from the Curragh and confusionaries and the authorities Noord Amrikaans and South Aferican cattleraiders (so they say) all over like a tiara dullfuoco in his grey half a tall hat and his amber necklace and his crimson harness and his leathern jib and his cheapskein hairshirt and his scotobrit sash and his parapelagian gallowglasses (how do you do, jaypee? Elevato!)|8, forkbearded and bluetoothed and bellied and boneless, from Strathlyffe and Aylesburyº and Northumberland Anglesey,º8| to find out all the improper colleges (and how do you do, Mr Dame James? Get out of my way!)|8, especially he being amphotically the right man in the right place,º8| and all the horsepowers. But now, talking of wolkingology and how our seaborn isle came into exestuance (the explutor, his three andesiters and the two pantellarias), that reminds me about manausteriums of the poor Marcus of Lyons and poor Johnny, the patrician, and what do you think of the four of us and there they were now listening right enough, the four saltwater widowers, and all they could remembore long long ago in the olden times Momonian |8throw darker hour sorrows the princest day8| when Fair Margrate waited Swede Villem and Lally in the rain with the blank prints, now extincts, after the wreak of Wormans' Noe why the barmaisigheds when my heart knew no care and after that then there was the official landing of Lady James Casement in the year of the flood 1132 S.O.S. and the christening of Queen Battersby the Fourth Buzzersbee according to her grace the bishop, alderwoman J. P. Biskop, Senior, off the whate shape and then there was the drowning of Pharoah and all his pedestrians and they were all completely drowned into the sea, the red sea, and then poor |8Martin Cunningham Merkin Cornyngwham8|, the official out of the castle on pension, when he was completely drowned off the Erin Isles at that time, Suir knows, in the red sea and a lovely mourning paper and thank God, as Saman said, there were no more of him. And that now was how it was. |8The arzurian deeps o'er his humbodumbones sweeps. And his widdy the giddy is wreathing her murmours murmoirs as her gracest triput to the Grocery Trader's Manthly.
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Mind mand gunfree by Gladeys |aReyburn Rayburna|. Runtable's |aand Sons Reincorporateda|. |aThe new worldº presses.a| Where the
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old conk cruised now croons the |ayonk yunka|. |a|bExeont Exeoncº |cthrowadure throwadurrasc|b| Kram of Llawnroc, |bthe yeb| gink guy, kirked |binto yordb|. Enterest |battawonderb| Wehpen, |ba luftcatb| revol, |bfairescapadingb| in his natsirt. Tuesy tumbles. |bAnd mild aunt Liza is as loose as her neese. Ful fest withim |cin brace inerbracec| behent. As gent would deem oncontinent. So mulct per wenche is Elsker woed. Ne hath his thrysting. Fin.b| Like the newcasters in their old plyable of A Royenne Devowsº. Jazzaphoney and Mirillovis and Nippy she nets best. Ying.
a|8| Ay, ay! Sobbos. And so he was. Sabbus.

Marcus. And after that, not forgetting, there was the Flemish armada all scattered and all officially drowned there and then on a lovely morning after the universal flood at about eleven thirtytwo (was it?) off the coast of |8Cunningham Cominghome8| and Saint Patrick the anabaptist and Saint Kevin the lacustrian |8with toomuch of tolls and lottance of beggars8| after converting Powerscourt and Dana our first marents and Lapoleon, the equestrian, on his whuite hourse of Hunover, and all they remembored and then there was the |8French Frankish8| fleet |8of Noahsdovahs8| from Hidalgoland round about the |8freebutter8| year of Notre Dame 1132 P.P.C. or so disumbunking from under Motham-general Bonaboche (noo poopery!) in his half a grey traditional hat, alevoila come alevilla, and after that there he was, so terrestrial, |8like |aaa| Nailscissos,º8| cuddling and poghuing her scandalous and very wrong, the maid, in single combat, under the sycamores amid the bladderings from the boom and all the gallowsbirds in Arrah-na-poghue, so silvestrious, neer the queen's colleges in 1132 Bride street behind the century man on the door. And then again they used to give the grandest universal |8|ahowldmoutherhibberd howldmoutherhibberta|8| lectures (hello, Hibernia!) from sea to sea (Matt speaking!) according to the pictures postcard |8with sexon grimmacticals8| in the Latimer Roman history of Latimer repeating himself |8from the vicerine of |aLorda| Hugh the Lacytynant till Bockley shutsº the rahjahn gerachknell and regnumrockery roundupº8| (Marcus Lyons speaking!) to the oceanfuls of collegians green and high classes and the poor scholars and all the old trinitarian senate and saints and
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sages and the Plymouth brethren droning along peanzanzangan and nodding and sleeping away there like forgetmenots, in her abijance service, round their twelve tables per pioja at pulga bollas in the four trinity colleges for earnasyoulearning in Eringrowback of Ulcer, Moonster, Leanstare and Cannought, the four grandest colleges |8supper the matther ofº |aErrin Erryna|8| of Killorcure and Killthemall and Killeachother and Killkelly-on-the-Flure|8, where their role was to rule the round roll that Rollo and Rullo rolled round8|. Those were the
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grandest gynecollege histories (Lucas calling, hold the line!) in the Jane Andersdaughter universary for auld acquaintance sake (this unitarian lady|8, breathtaking beauty, Bambam's bonniest,8| lived to a great age at or in or about |8the late8| No. 1132 or No. 1169, bis, Fitzmary Round, that eredwellers' afterliving, where she was seen by many and widely liked) for teaching the Fatima Woman history of Fatimiliafamilias repeating herself on which purposeth of the spirit of nature as divinely developed in time by psadatepholomy, the past and present (Johnny MacDougall speaking, give me trunks, miss!) and present and absent and past and present and perfect arma virumque romano. Ah, dearo dear! |8O weep for the hower when eve aleaves bower!8| How it |8all came did but all come eddaying8| back to them |8if they did but gaze8| to hear him there kissing her and cuddling her|8, |aafterº thea| gre gouty old galahat with his peer of quinnyfears and his troad of thirstuns,8| so nefarious|8, from his elevation of one yard one one handard and thartytwo lines,8| before the four of us in his Roman catholic arms |8while his deepseepeepers gazed and sazed and dazecrazemazed into her dullokbloon rodolling olosheen eyes eyenbowls8| by the Cornelius Nepos. Mnepos. Anumque. Umque. |8N Napoo.8|

Queh? Quos?

Ah, dearo dearo dear! |8Bozun braceth brythe hwen gooses gandered gamen.8| It was so |8scalding8| sorry for all the whole twice two four of us with their familiar making the totem and Lally when he lost part of his half a hat and all belongings to him, in his old futile manner, cape, towel and drawbreeches, and repeating himself and telling him now for the seek of Senders
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Newslaters |8and the mossacre of Saint Brices8| to forget the last when the burglar he shoved the wretch in churneroil and contradicting all about Lally, the ballest master of Goaterstown, and his old fellow the Lagener in the Locklane Lighthouse earing his wick with a pierce of railing and liggen heg with his ladder up and that oldtime turner and his sadderday erely cloudsing, the old croniony, Skelly, with the lether belly, full of neltts, full of keltts, full of lightweight beltts, and all the bald drakes ever he had up in the bohereen off Artsichekes Road with Molls and |8Macmu Mahmullagh8| Mullarty|8, the man in the Oran mosque,8| and the old folks at home and Duignam and Lapole and the grand confarreation as per the Cabbangers richestore and he couldn't stop laughing over Tom Tim Tarpey, the Welshman, and the four middleaged widowers|8, all nangles, sangles, angles and wangles8|. And now that reminds me not to forget the four of the Welsh waves, leaping laughing, |8in their Lumbag Walk8| over old Battleshore and Deaddleconchs, in their half a Roman hat with an ancient Greek gloss on it in Chichester college auction and thank God they were all summarily divorced four years before, of so they say, by their dear poor shehusbands in dear byword days and never brought to mind, to see no more the rainwater on the floor but still they parted, raining water laughing, per Nupiter Privius, on the best of terms and be forgot whilk was plainly foretold by their old pilgrim cocklesong that they were singing through the wettest indies As I was going to Burrymecarott we fell in with a lout by the name of Peebles as also in another place by their orthodox proverb That old fellow knows milk though he's not used to it latterly. And so they parted. Ay, ay. The good go and the wicked is left over. |8As evil flawsº so Ivel flows.8| Ay, ay. Ah, well, sure that's the way. |8as As the holymaid of Kunut said to the haryman of Koombe. For his humple pesition in odvices.8| Woman. Squash. Part. Ay, ay. By decree absolute.

Lucas. And, O, so well they could remembore at that time Mrs Dowager Justice Squelchman, foorsitter, in her fullbottom wig
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and beard in or aring or around about the year of buy in disgrace 1132 or 1169 or 1798 Y.W.C.A. at the Married Male Familyman's Auctioneers' court in Arrahnacuddle. Poor Johnny of the clan of the Dougals, the poor Scuitsman, |8nothing if not amorous,8| dinna forget, so frightened (zweep! zweep!) on account of her fullbottom, that put the yearl of mercies on him and the four maasters because he was so slow to borstel her schoon for her when he was grooming her ladyship instead of backscratching her materfamilias proper like any old methodist and all divorced |8by and innasense interdict in the middle of the temple8| according to their dear faithful. Ah, now, it was too bad, too bad and stout entirely! And poor Mark or Marcus Bowandcoat, |8from the brownesberrow in nolandsland,8| the poor old chronometer, all persecuted |8|athrough Alley Croaker with ally croakera|8| by everybody he was, by decree absolute |8through |aErin's isle Herrinsildea|8| because he forgot himself making wind and water and made a Neptune's mess of all of himself sculling over the giamond's courseway and because he forgot to remembore to sign an old morning proxy paper, a writing in request to herself on stamped parchment before saying his grace before fish and then and there and too there was poor Dion Cassius Poosycomb all drowned too poor Dion before the world and her husband because it was most improper and most wrong when he attempted to — well, he was shocking poor in his health, he said, with the shingles falling off him — because he — ah, well now, |8peaces pea to Wedmore and8| let not the song go dong upon your Ire, as we say in the Spasms of Davies, and we won't be too hard on
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him as an old Manx presbyterian, and after that, as red as a Rosse is, he made his last will and went to confession like the general of the Berkeleyites at the rim of the rom on his two bare marrowbones to Her Worship his Mother and Sister Evangelist Sweeney on Cailcainnin widnight and he was so sorry, he was really, because he left the |8bootbutton bootybutton8| in the |8hansom handsome8| cab and now, tell the truth, unfriends never, she was his first messes dogess and it was a very pretty peltry and there
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were faults on both sides — well, he attempted (or so they say) — ah, now, forget and forgive (don't we all?), and sure, he was only funning, with his andrewmartins and his old age coming over him — well, he attempted or, the Connachy, he was tempted to attempt some hunnish familiarities after eten a bad crab in the red ocean and sure he was deadseasickabed (it was really too bad!), her poor old divorced male, in the hospice for the dying at the Martyr Mrsmacawleys and trying to hold the nursetender's hand (ah, the poor old coax!) and count the buttons and her hand and frown on a bad crab and dying to remembore |8what doed they were byorn and8| who made a who a snore. Ah dearo dearo dear!

And where do you leave Matt Emeritus, the laychief of Abbotabishop? And eschullard of ffrench and gherman. Achoch! They were all so sorgy for poorboir Matt in his saltwater hat |8with the Aran crown8| that she grew all out of, too big for him, of Mnepos and his overalls all falling over her in folds — sure, he hadn't the heart in her to pull them up — poor Matt, the old peregrine matriarch, and a queenly man (the porple blussing upon them!), sitting there, |8the sole of the settlement,8| below ground, for an expiatory rite, in postulation of his cause (who shall say?), in her beaver bonnet, the crapoppely billycoque back from Presscoatts and Dyars, like the king of the Caucuses, a family all to himself, under geasa, Themistletocles, on his multilingual tombstone and she due to kid by sweetpea time, with her face to the wall in |8sight view8| of the poorhouse, |8and taking his rust in the oxsight of Iren,8| under all the auspices, amid the rattle of hailstorms, with her ivyclad hat and gripping an old pair of curling tongs belonging to Mrs Dana O'Connell to blow his brains with, till the heights of Newhigherland heard the bristolshut, with his can of tea |8and a purse of alf alfred cakes8| from Anne Lynch and two cuts of Shackleton's brown loaf and dilisk, waiting for the end to come — Gordon Heighland, when you think of it! |8The merthe dirther!8| Ah ho! It was too bad entirely! All devoured by active parlourmen laudabiliter of woman squelch and all on account of the
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smell of Shackleton and Scratchman and his mouth watering|8, acid and alkolic,º signs on the salt,8| and so now pass the loaf for Christ' sake, Amen. And so. And all.
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Matt. And loaf. So that was the end. And it can't be helped. Ah, God be good to us! Poor Andrew Martin Cunningham! Take breath! Ay, ay!

And still and all at that time of the dynast days of old konning Soteric Sulkinbored and Bargomuster Bart when they struck coil and shock haunts in old Hungerford-on-Mudway |8where first I met thee oldpoetryck flied from may8| and the Finnan haddies and the Noal Sharks and the muckstails turtles |8like an acoustic pottish8| and the griesouper |8patauge bullyum8| and how he poled him up his boccat of vuotar and got big buzz for his name in the airweek's honours from home, colonies and empire, they were always with assisting grace thinking (up) and not forgetting about shims and shawls week in auld lang syne (up) their four hosenbands that were four (up) beautful sister misters, now happily married, and there they were always counting and contradicting every night the lovely mother-of-periwinkle buttons according to the lapper part of their anachronism (up one up two up one up four) and after that there now she was, in the end, the deary, |8soldpowder and all,8| the beautfour sisters and that was her mudhen republican name right enough |8from alum and oves8| and they used to be getting up from under in their tape and straw garlands with all the worries awake in their hair at the kookaburra bell ringing all wrong inside of them (come in, come on, you lazy loafs!) all inside their poor old Shandon bellbox (come out to hell, you lousy louts!) so frightened, like Knockneeghs bumpsed by the fisterman's straights (ys! ys!), at all hours every night on their mistletoes, the four old oldsters, with the oerkussens under their armsaxters, all puddled and mistified the way the wind wheeled the schooler round, when nobody wouldn't even let them rusten from playing their gastspiels, crossing their sleep by the shocking silence when they were in dreams of yore standing behind the
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door or leaning out of the chair or kneeling under the sofacover and sitting on the souptureen and then getting into their way something barbarous, changing the one wet underdown convibrational bed they used to slumper under when hope was there no more and putting on their half a hat and falling over all synopticals and a panegyric and repeating themselves, like svvollovving stickers look all round the stool, walk everywhere for a jool to break fyre toy all the rancers, to collect all and bits of brown, the rathure's evelopmen in spirits of time in all fathom of space and slooping around in a bawneen and bath slipper and go away to Oldpatrick and see a doctor Walker. And after that so glad they had their night tentacles and there they used to be flapping and cycling and a
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dooing a doonloop panementically around the waists of the ships, as tyred as they were, at their windswidths in the wavelengths, the clipperbuilt and the five fourmasters and Lally of the cleftoft bagoderts and Roe of the fair cheats, exchanging fleas, from host to host, with arthroposophia and he selling him before he forgot, |8|xissle, issle,x| after having prealably dephlegmatised his gutterful of throatyfrogs,8| with a |8mandible lungible8| fong in his suckmouth ear, |8while the dear invoked to his the coolun dare by a palpebrowsº lift left no doubt in his minder, till he was instant and he was trustin, sister soul |aand ina| brother hand, the subjects being their passion grand,8| that one fresh from the cow about Eithne Meithne married a mailde and that one too from Engrvakar saga |8abooth8| a gooth |8alav a a gev aº8| gotheny egg all out of his oldy head and the parkside pranks of quality queens |8for Earl Hoovedsoon's choosing8| and Huber and Harman |8and orhowwhen theeuponthus eysolt of binnoculises memostinmust egotum sobcunsciously |asenseupers sense upersa| the deprofundity of multimathematical immaterialitiesº wherebejubers in the pancosmic urge the allimmanence of that which Itself is Itself Alone (hear, O hear, Caller Errin!) exteriorises on this ourherenow plane in disunited solod, likeward and gushious bodies with (science, say!) perilwhitened passionpanting pugnoplangent intuitions of reunited
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selfdom (murky whey, abstrewsº adim!) in the higherdimensional selfless Allself, theemeeng Narsty meetheeng Idoless and telling
8| Jolly MacGory, dear mester John, the belated dishevelled, hacking away at a parchment pie, and all the other analist, the steamships and the women-o'-war, and playing melia marmels in ocean ladies' foursome, ovenfor, nedenfor, dinkety, duk, and their pair of green eyes and peering in, so they say, like the narcolepts on the lakes of Coma through the steamy windows into the honeymoon cabins on board the big steamadories made by Fumadory and the saloon ladies' madorn toilet chambers lined over prawn silk and rub off the salty catara off a windows and hee hee listening, qua committee, the poor old quakers, |8oben the dure8| to see all the hunnishmooners and the firstclass ladies, serious me, |8a lass8| spring as you fancy, |8|aanda| sheets far from the lad,8| courting in |8bed blankets8|, enfamillias and shee shee all improper in a lovely mourning toilet, |8for the rosecrumpler, the thrilldriver, the sighinspirer, with that olive throb in his nude neck, and|x, swayin and thayin,x| thanks ever so much for the tiny quote, |xwhich sought of maid everythingling |aagaina| so very much more delightafellay, and the perfidly suite of her,x|8| bootyfilly yours, under all their familarities, by preventing grace forgetting to say their grace before |8chambadory chambadory,8| before going to boat with the verges of the
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chaptel of the opering of the month of Nema-Knatut so pass the poghue for grace sake, Amen. And all hee hee hee quaking, so fright, and shee shee shaking. Aching. Ay, ay.

|8⇒ For it was then a pretty thing happened of pure diversion mayhap, when herº flattering |ahand henda|, at the justright moment (|a, like there perchance some cook of corage might clip the lad on a poot of porage,º anda| |ahad shut handshuta| his duckhouse, the vivid girl, |a(a|deaf with love|a,º (ah sure,a| you know her, our angel being, one of romance's fadeless wonderwomen, and, sure now, we all know you dote on her even unto date),º with a queeleetlecree |aof |bjoysous joysisb| crisisa| she renulited their disunited,º with ripy lepes to ropy lopes (the dear o'dears!) and the golden importunity of aloofer's leavetime, when as quick asº greased pigskin, Amoricas Champiasº, with one virul throastº, druve the massive of vigtoury flshpstº the
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bothlinesº of forwards (Eburnea's down, boys!) rightjingbangshot into the goal of her gullet.
8|

|8⇒ And now upright and add them! And plays be honest! And pul pullit into yourself, as on manowoman do another! Candidately, everybody! There was this wellyoumaycallher, a strapping fine |ayoungºa| modern old ancient Irish prisscess, so and so hands high, such and such paddock weight, in her madapolam smock, nothing under her hat but red hair and solid ivory (now you know it's true in your hardup hearts!) and a firstclass pair of bedroom eyesº of most unholyº blueº (how weak we are, one and all!),º the charm of favour's fond consent! with sweet enchantment fain! Couldº you blame her,º we're saying?, for one psocoldlogical moment? |aWhat would Ewe do?a| With that tiresome old milkless ram, with his tiresome duty peck and his brochi bronchi bronchial tubes, the tiresome old |aorangoran orangograna| beaver in his tiresome old twentysixandsixpennyº sheopards |aPlads Plodsa| drowsers! It were too exceeding really if one woulds to offer at sulk an oldivirdual a pinge of hinge hit. The mainest thing ever! Since Edem was in the boaysº noavy. No, no, the dear heaven knows, and the farther the from it, if the whole stole stale misbetoldº, whoever the gulpable, and whatever the pulpous was, the twooned togethered, and giving the mhost ph phassionable wheathers, they were doing a lally a lolly a dither a duther one lelly two dather three lilly four dother. And it was a fiveful moment for the poor old timetellers ticktacking toº tenk the count. Till the spark that plugged spared the chokee he gripped and (volatile volupty, how brieved are thy lunguings!) they could and they could hear like of a lisp lapsing, that was her knight of the Truths Thongº plipping out of her chapellledeosy, after where he had gone and polped the questioned. Plop.8|
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|8Ah now, it was tootwoly torrific,º the mummumlubejubes!8| And then after that they used to be so forgetful counting motherpeributts (up one up four) to membore her beaufu mouldern
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maiden name for overflauwing by the dream of woman the Owneirist in forty lands. From Greg and Doug on poor Greg and Mat and Mar and Lu and Jo, now happily buried, our four sisters. And there she was now right enough, that lovely sight enough, the girleen bawn asthore as for days galore of planxty Gregory. Egory. Ay, ay.

But sure that reminds me now, like another tellmastory repeating yourself, how they used to be in lethargy's love at the end of it all at that time (up) always, tired and all, after doing the mousework and making it up, over their community singing (up) the |8top toploftº8| of the |8voice voicebox8| of Mamalujo like the senior follies at murther magrees squatting round two by two, the four confederates, with Caxon, the Coxswain, (up) the wet air register in Old Man's House, Millenium Road, crowning themselves in lauraly branches with their cold knees and their poor (up) quadrupeds fast ovasleep and all dolled up for their blankets and materny mufflers and plimsoles and their bowl of brown schackle and milky and boterham clots, a potion apeace, a piece aportion, a lepel alip, alup a lap, for a cup of kindest yet with hold take hand and nurse and only touch of ate a lovely munkybown and wait the pinch and prompt poor Mucus Lyons to be not beheeding the skillet on for the live of ghosses but to pass the teeth for choke sake Amensch when it so happen they were all sicamore and by the world forgot since the phlegmish hoopicough for all a possabed after ete a bad cramp and johnny magories and backscrat the poor bedsores and the farthing dip, their caschal pandle and read a letter or two every night before going to dodo sleep atrance with their catkins coifs in the twilight, a capitaletter for further auspices on their old one page codex book of old year's eve 1132, M.M.L.J. old style, their Senchus Mor by his fellow girl the Mrs Shemans, in her summerseal house onsample, with the caracul broadtail, her totam in tutu, final buff noonmeal edition, in the regatta covers, uptenable from the orther, for to regel their reves by incubation and Lally through their gangrene spentacles and all the good they did in their time, the rigorists, for Roe and O'Mulconry a
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Conry ap Mul or Lap ap Morion and Buffler ap Matty MacGregory for Marcus on Podex by Daddy de Wyer, old bagabroth, beeves and scullogues, churls and vassals, in same, sept and severalty, and one by one and sing a mamalujo. |8To the heroest champion of Eren and his braceoleandersº and Gowan, Gawin and Gonne.8|

And after that now in the future please God after nonpenal death, all start repeating ourselves in medios loquos |8|afroma| where he got useful arm busy
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on the touchline due south of her western shoulder down to
8| death and |8the love embrace with an interesting tallow complexion and8| all now united sansfamillias |8let us ran on to8| say oremus prayer |8and homeysweet homely |aafter fully realising the gratifying |bexperiences experienceºb| of highly continental evenements,a|8| for meter and peter to temple a eslaap for auld acquaintance to Peregrine and Michael and Farfassa and Peregrine for navigants et peregrinantibus in all the old imperial and Fionnachan sea and |8for vogue awallow toº8| sing a lovasteamadorion |8f to Ladyseyes, here's Tricks |ato anda| Doelsy, |adelightfully ours,a|8| in her doaty ducky little blue and roll |8a his8| hoop and how she ran|8, |awhen wit won free,ºa| the dimply blissed and awfully bucked, right glad8| we never |8never8| shall forget|8, |aMiss Yiss, you fascinator, you,ºa| thoh the dayses gone still they loves young dreams,º8| and old Luke with his kingly leer|8, so wellworth watching,8| and Senchus Mor|8, possessed of evident notoriety,8| and another more |8of the bigtimers,8| to name no others |8of whom great things were expected in the fulmfilming department,8| for the lives of Lazarus and auld luke syne and she haihaihail her kobbor kohinor sehehet on the praze savohohole Shanghai.