Who do you no tonigh, lazy and gentleman?
The echo is where in the back of the wodes; call him forth!
(Shaun Mac Irewick, briefdragger, for the concern of Messrs Jhon Jhamieson and Song, rated one hundrick and thin per storehundred on this nightly quisquiquock of the twelve apostrophes, set by Jockit Mic Ereweak. He misunderstruck an aim of number three of them and left his free natural ripostes to four of them in their own fine artful disorder.)
H 1. What secondtonone myther rector and maximost bridgesmaker was the first to rise taller through his beanstale than the bluegum baobabbaum or the giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia; went nudiboots with trouters into a liffeyette when she was barely in her tricklies; was well known to claud a conciliation cap onto the esker of his hooth; sports a
chainganger's albert solemenly over his hullender's epulence; thought he weighed a new ton when there felled his first lapapple; gave the heinousness of choice to everyknight betwixt yesterdicks and twomaries; had sevenal successivecoloured serebanmaids on the same big white drawringroam horthrug; is a Willbeforce to this hour at house as he was in heather; pumped the catholick wartrey
and shocked the prodestung boyne; killed his own hungery self in anger as a young man; found fodder for five when allmarken rose goflooded; bred manyheaded stepsons for one leapyourown taughter; is too funny for a fish and has too much outside for an insect; bears a raaven gueulant on a fjeld duiv; wore a halo to his varlet and appeared to his shecook; pressed the beer of aled age out of the
nettles of rashness; put a roof on the lodge for Hymn and a coq in his pot for homo; was dapifer, then pancircensor, then hortifex magnus; won the freedom of new yoke for the minds of jugoslaves; acts active, meddles in passivism and is a monster of selfridgeousness; pours a laughsworth of his illformation over a larmsworth of salt; he stands in a lovely park, sea is not far, importunate towns of
X, Y and Z are easily |3reached overreachedº3|; is an excrescence to civilised humanity and but a wart on Europe; wanamade singsigns to soundsense an yit he wanna git all
his flesch nuemaid motts truly prural and plusible; was waylaid by a parker and beschotten by a buckeley; kicks lintils when he's cuppy and casts Jacob's arroroots, dime after dime, to poor childer on his parish; soaps you soft to your face and slaps himself when he's badend; owns the bulgiest bungbarrel that ever was tiptapped in the privace of the Mullingar Inn; was born with a
nuasilver tongue in his mouthe and went round the coast of Iron with his lift hand to the scene; raised but two fingers and yet smelt it would day; for whom it is easier to found a see in Ebblannah than for I or you to find a dubbeltye in Dampsterdump; to live with whom is a lifemayor and to know whom a liberal education; was dipped in Hoily Olives and chrysmed in Scent Otooles; hears cricket on
the earth but annoys the life out of predikants; still turns the dure's ear of Darius to the now thoroughly infuriated man of God; made Man with juts that jerk and minted money mong maney; likes a six acup pudding when he's come whome sweet whome; was dubbed out of joke and limned in raw ochre; has come through all the eras of livsadventure from
noonshine and shampaying down to clouts and pottled porter; with one touch
of nature set a veiled world agrin and went within a sheet of tissuepaper of the option of three gaols; who could see at one blick a saumon taken with a spear, hunters pursuing a deer, a swallowship in full sail, a whiterobe lifting a host; faced flappery like old King Cnut and turned his back like Cincinnatus; is a farfar and morefar and a hoar father Nakedbucker in villas old as new; sits aquart and cracks aquaint when it's flaggin in town and on haven; blows whiskery around the head but thinks stout upon his feet; stutters fore he falls and goes mad entirely when he's waked; is Timb to the pearly morn and Tomb to the mourning night; and an he had the best bunbaked bricks in bould Babylon for his lustingplays he'd be lost for the want of his wan wubblin wall?
answer: Finn MacCool!
A 2. Does your mutter know your mike?
When I turn meoptics,
from suchurban prospects,
'tis my filial's bosom,
doth behold with pride,
with his dam night garrulous,
slipt by his side.
Ann alive, the lisp of her,
'twould grig mountains whisper her,
and the bergs of Iceland,
melt in waves of fire,
and her spoon-me-spondees,
and her drickle-me-ondenees,
make the rageous Ossean,
kneel and quaff a lyre!
If Dann's dane, Ann's dirty,
if he's plane, she's purty,
if he's fane, she's flirty,
with her auburnt streams,
and her coy cajoleries,
and her dabblin drolleries,
for to rouse his rudderup,
or to drench his dreams.
If hot Hammurabi,
or cowld Clesiastes,
could espy her pranklings,
they'd burst bounds agin,
and renounce their ruings,
and denounce their doings,
for river and iver,
and a night. Amin!
N 3. Which title is the true-to-type motto-in-lieu for that Tick for Teac thatchment painted witt weth one darkness, where asnake is under clover and birds aprowl are in the rookeries and a magda went to monkishouse and a riverpaard was spotted, which is not Whichcroft Whorort not Ousterholm Dreyschluss not Haraldsby, grocer, not Vatandcan, vintner, not
Houseboat and Hive not Knox-atta-Belle not O'Faynix Coalprince not Wohn Squarr Roomyeck not Ebblawn Downes not Le Decer
Le Mieux not Benjamin's Lea not Tholomew's Whaddingtun gnot Antwarp gnat Musca not Corry's not Weir's not The Arch not The Smug not The Dotch House not The Uval nothing Grand nothing Splendid (Grahot or Spletel) nayther Erat Est Erit noor Non michi sed lucefro?
answer: Thine obesity, O civilian, hits the felicitude of our orb!
X 4. What Irish capitol city (a dea o dea!) of two syllables and six letters, with a deltic origin and a nuinous end (ah dust oh dust!), can boost of having a) the most extensive public park in the world, b) the most expensive brewing industry in the world, c) the most expansive peopling thoroughfare in the world, d) the most phillohippuc theobibbous paupulation in the world?
answer: a) Delfas. And when ye'll hear the hommers of my heart, my floxy loss, bingbanging again the ribs of yer resistance and the tenderbolts of my rivets working to your destraction ye'll be sheverin wi' all yer dinful sobs when we'll go riding a cope-a-curly, you with yer orange garland and me with my conny
cordial, down the greaseways of rollicking into the waters of wetted life. b) Dorhqk. And sure where can you have such
good old chimes anywhere, and leave you, and how 'tis I would be engaging you with my plovery soft accents and descanting upover the scene beunder me of your loose vines in their hairafall with them two loving loofs braceleting the slims of your ankles and your mouth's flower rose and sinking ofter the soapstone of speech. c) Nublid. Isha, why wouldn't we be happy, avourneen, on the mills' money he'll soon be leaving you as soon as I've my own owned brooklined Georgian mansion's lawn to recruit upon by Doctor Cheek's special orders and my panful of soybeans and Irish in my east hand and a James's Gate in my west, after all the errears and erroriboose of embottled history, and your goodself churning over the newleaved butter (more power to you!), the choicest and the cheapest from Atlanta to Oconee, while I'll be drowsing in the gaarden. d) Dalway. I hooked my
thoroughgoing trotty the first down Spanish Place, Mayo I make, Tuam I take, Sligo's sin but Galway's grace. Holy eel and sainted salmon, chucking chub and ducking dace, I never felt your aequal! says she, leppin half the lane. |3'|~It is Ulster, Umpter, Leister and Cannedia ringing in “unison”.~| abcdº) A bell a bell on Shalldoll Steepbellº, ond be'll go massplon pristmoss speople, Shand praise gon ness our fayst moan neopleº, our prame Shandeepenº, pay name muy feepenceº, moy nay non Aequallllllll!º3'|
Y 5. Whad slags of a loughladd would retten smuttyflesks, emptout old mans, melk vitious geit, scareoff jackinjills fra tiddle anding, smoothpick waste papish pastures, sprink dirted water, bear around village, newses, tobaggon and sweeds, plain general kept, louden on the kirkpeal, foottreats given to malafides, outskriek hyelp hyelp nor his hair efter buggelawrs, might underhold three barnets, putzpolish crotty bottes, nightcoover all fireglims, serve's time till baass, grindstone his kniveses, fullest boarded, lewd man of the method in godliness, perchance he nieows and thans sits in the spoorwaggen, will, on advices, blank, must begripe fallstandingly irers' langurge, jublander or northquain bigger prefurred, may get earnst, no get combitsch, profusional drinklords to please obstain, he is fatherlow soundigged inmoodmined pershoon but aleconnerman, nay, that must he isn't?
answer: Pore ole Joe!
} 6. What means the saloon slogan Summon In The Housesweep Dinah?
answer: Galory bit of the sales of Cloth nowand I have to beeswax
the bringing in all the claub of the parks to us how I thawght I knew his stain on the flower O if (3my me3) ash and can could speak and he called by me midden name I am your honey honeysugger phwhtphwht tha Bay and who bruk the dandleass and who seen the blackcullen jam for Tomorrha's big pickneck I hope it'll pour prais the Climate of all Ireland who eight the last of the goosebellies that was mowlding from hoopincoff years and who leff that there and who put that here and who let the kilkenny stale the chop and whowasit youwasit propped the pot in the yard and whatinthe nameofsen lukeareyou rubbinthe sideofthe flureofthe lobbywith. Shite! Will you have a plateful?
O 7. Who are those component partners of our societate, the doorboy, the cleaner, the sojer, the crook, the squeezer, the lounger, the curman, the tourabout, the mussroomsniffer, the bleakablue tramp, the funpowtherplother, the christymansboxer, from their prés salés and Donnybrook prater and Roebuck's campos and the ager Arountown and Crumglen's grassy but Kimmage's champ and Ashtown fields and Cabra fields and Finglas fields and Santry fields and the feels of Raheny and their fails and Baldoygle to them, who are latecomers all the years round by anticipation, are the porters of the passions in virtue of retroratiocination, and, contributting their conflingent controversies of differentiation, unify their voxes in a vote of vaticination, who crunch the crusts of comfort due to depredation, drain the mead for misery to incur intoxication, condone every evil by practical justification and condamn any good to its own gratification, who are ruled, roped, duped and driven by those angel daimons, the feekeepers (3of at3) their laws, nightly consternation, fortnightly fornication, monthly miserecordation and omniannual recreation, Matey, Teddy, Simon, Jorn, Pedhar, Andy, Barty, Philly, Jamesy Mor, and Tom, Matt and Jakes MacCorty?
answer: The Morphies!
Q 8. And how war yore maggies?
answer: They war loving, they love laughing, they laugh weeping, they weep smelling, they smell smiling, they smile hating, they hate thinking, they think feeling, they feel tempting, they tempt daring, they dare waiting, they wait taking, they take thanking, they thank seeking, as born for lorn in lore of love to live and wive by wile and rile and
rule by rune of
ruse 'reathed rose and
hose hol'd home, but cometh elope year, coach and four, Sweet Peck-at-my-Heart picks one man more.
o 9. Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, if a human being, duly fatigued by his dayety in the sooty, having plenxty off time on his gouty hands and vacants of space at his sleepish feet and as hapless behind the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk, were, at this auctual futule preteriting unstant, in the states of suspensive exanimation, accorded, through the eye of a noodle, with an earsighted view of old hopeinhaven with all the ingredient and egregiunt wights and ways to which in the curse of his persistence the course of his tory will had been having recourses, the reverberration of knotcracking awes, the reconjungation of nodebinding ayes, the redissolusingness of mindmouldered ease and the thereby hang of the Hoel of it, could such a none, whiles even led comesilencers to comeliewithhers and till intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spot lucan's dawn, byhold at ones what is main and why 'tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, the sap rising, the foles falling, the nimb now nihilant round the girlyhead so becoming, the wrestless in the womb, all the rivals to allsea, shakeagain, O disaster! shakealose, Ah how starring! but Heng's got a bit of Horsa's nose and Jeff's got the signs of Ham round his mouth and the beau that spun beautiful pales as it palls, what roserude and oragious grows gelb and greem, blue out the ind of it! Violet's dyed! then what would that fargazer seem to seemself to seeming of, dimn it all?
answer: A collideorscape!
I 10. What bitter's love but yurning, what' sour lovemutch but a bref burning, till shee that drawes dothe smoake retourne?
answer: I know, pepette, of course, dear, but listen, precious! Thanks, pette, those are lovely, delicious! But mind the wind, sweet! What exquisite hands you have, you angel, if you didn't gnaw your nails! Isn't it a wonder you're not ashamed of me, you pig, you perfect little pig! I bet you use her best French cream
to make them look so rosetop glowstop nostop. When I think of that Dan Hishon, the foodbrawler of the sociationist party and all his fourteen other maulers. Stoop a little closer, fealse! Delicious simply! I haven't fell so turkish for ages and ages! Why, what are they all, the mucky lot of them only? Peppt! That's right, hold it steady! Poo! Listen, loviest! Of course it was too kind of you, miser, to remember my sighs in shockings and I'll always in always remind of them with my very best gloves even if he was to be vermillion miles my youth to live on, creaking around on his old axle like a crosty old cornquake. I'm fine, thanks ever! O, mind you poo fingies! Mummum! I'm terribly sorry, I swear to you I am! May you never see me in my figure how I sleep gracefully in my
birthday pelts and that her blanches mainges may rot leprous off her, whatever winking maggis I'll bet by your cut you go chasting after, with jumps in her stomewhere! Of course I know, pettest, you're so learningful and considerate in yourself, you long cold cat you! Please too meek my acquointance! Codling, snakelet, icicle! My diaper has more life to it! Who drowned you, so young in drears, man, or are you pillale with ink? Can't you read my dazzled eyes through me true? Count all your quick of my rhythmic ticks, pore into me, volumes, spell me stark and spill me swooning. Transname me loveliness, now me and here me for all times! I'd risk a policeman passing by, Magrath or even that beggar of a boots at the Post. The flame? O, pardone! That was what? Ah, did you speak, stuffstuff? More poestries from Sakespeare's? Holy bug, how my highness would jump to make you flame your halve a banan in two when I'd run my blazing torchlight through
your hairmejig if you had one! To adore me there and then cease to be? If I am laughing with you? No, lovingest, I'm not so dying to take my rise out of you. It's only because I'm only any girl, you lovely fellow of my dreams, and because old somebooby is not a roundabout, my trysting of the tulipies, like that puffpape bucking Daveran, assoiling us behinds, and because, you pluckless lankaloot, I hate the very thought of the thought of you and because, dearling, of course, adorest, I was always meant for an engindear which please business now won't be long. I beg your pardon, I was listening to every word I said fell from my dear mot's lip otherwise how could I see what you were thinking of your granny? Move your mouth towards minth, more, more on more! Don't be a, I'm not going to! Sh! Nothing! A cricri somewhere: Buybuy! I'm fly! Let them, their whole four courtships! Let them! Bigbawl and his boosers' eleven makes twelve! And my waiting twenty classbirds, sitting on their stiles! We keeps all and sundry papers. In the limelight, O my dawrling! No, I swear to you by all I hold secret and goddesst in this world and in my underworld and in all the other wonderwearlds! Close your, notmust look, now open, pet, your lips, pepette, like I used my sweet parted lipsabuss with Dan Holohan taught me, pipetta mia, when you learned me the linguo to melt. Wholoham would have ears like ours, the blackhaird! Do you like that, silenziosa? Are you enjoying, my life, my love? Is it not divinely deluscious? Misi, misi! I am enjoying it still, I swear I am! Why do you prefer its in these dark nets, if why may ask, my sweetykins? Shsh! Longears is flying. No, sweetissest, why would that ennoy me? But don't! Your lips, love, be careful! Mind my dress above all! So, so, my precious! O, I know the cost, chara! Don't tell me! If I sell whose, dears? Was I sold here's, tears? How awful! I wouldn't not for all the juliettes in the twinkly way! Shshsh! Don't start like that, you wretch! I thought ye knew all and more, ye aucthors. It's only another queer fish in the damned old river again, God bless us and spare her! Excuse me for swearing, love, I swear I didn't mean to! Did you really never in all our lives speak clothse to a girl's before? No! How mawfellous! Of course I believe you, my own dear doting liest, when you tell me. As I'd live to, O, I'd love to! Liss, liss! I muss whiss! Never that ever or I can remember dearstreaming faces! Never in all my whole white light of my matchless and pair! With my whiteness I thee woo and bind my silk breaths I thee bound! Always, Amory, amor andmore! Till always, thou lovest! Shshshsh! So long as the lucksmith. Laughs!
D 11. If you met on the binge a poor acheseyeld from Ailing,
when the tune of his tremble shook shimmy on shin,
while his countrary raged in the weak of his wailing,
like a rugilant pugilant Lyon O'Lynn;
if he maundered in misliness, plaining his
or played fox and lice, picking and dropping hips teeth,
or wringing his handcuffs for peace, the blind blighter,
praying Dieuf and Domb Nostrums foh thomethinks to eath;
if he weapt while he leapt and guffalled quith a quhimper,
made cold blood a blue mundy and no bones without flech,
taking kiss, kake or kick with a suck, sigh or simper,
a diffle to larn and a dibble to lech;
if the fain shinner pegged you to shave his immartial,
wee skillmustered shoul with his ooh, hoodoodoo!
broking wind that to wiles woemaid sin he was partial,
we don't think, Jones, we'd care to this evening, would you?
answer: No, blank ye! But before proceeding to conclusively confute this begging question it would be far fitter for you (if ye dare!) to hasitate to consult with and consequentially attempt at my disposals of the same dime-cash problem elsewhere, naturalistically, of course, from the blinkpoint of so eminent a spatialist. From it you will here
notice, Schott, upon my for the first remarking you that the sophology of Bitchson while driven as under by a purely dime-dime urge is not without his cash-cash characktericksticks, borrowed for its nonce ends from the fiery goodmother Miss Fortune (who the lost time we had the pleasure we have had our little recherché brush with, what, Schott?) and as I further could have told you,
as brisk as your D.B.C., behaviouristically pailletés with a coat of homoid icing which is in reality only a done by chance ridiculisation of the whoo-whoo and where's hairs theorics of Winestain. To put it all the more plumbsily, the speechform is a mere sorrogate whilst the quality and tality (I shall explex what you ought to mean by this with its proper when and where and why
and how in the subsequent sentence) are alternativomentally harrogate and arrogate, as the gates may be. Talis is a word often abused by many passims. A pessim may frequent you to say: Have you been
seeing much of Talis and Talis those times?, optimately meaning: Will you put up a three of irish? Or a ladyeater may perhaps have casualised to you as you temptoed her à la sourdine: Of your plates, is Talis de Talis, the swordswallower, who is on at the Craterium the same Talis von Talis, the penscrusher (no funk you!), who runs his duly mile? Or this is a perhaps cleaner example. At a recent postvortex piece infustigation of a determinised case of chronic spinosis an extension lecturer on The Ague who out of matter of form was terging his seesers, Dr 's Het Ubeleeft, borrowed the question: Why's which Suchman's talis qualis? To whom, as a fatter of macht, Dr Gedankje of Stoutgirth, who was wiping his whistle, toarsely retoarted: While thou beast one zoom of a whorl! (Talis and Talis originally mean the same thing).