While they jeerilied along about old Father Barley, of how he got up of a morning arley and he met with a plattonem blondes named Hips and Haws and fell in with a foxy fellows of Trinity some headder Skowood Shaws like auld Daddy Deacon who could stow well his place of beacon but he never could hold his kerosene's candle to bold Farmer Burleigh who wuck up in a hurly wurly where he huddly could wuddle to wallow his weg tilbag of the baker's booth to beg of illed Diddiddy Achin for the prize of a pease of bakin for wold Forrester Farley who was found of the round of the sound of the lound of the
The play thou schouwburgst, Game, here endeth. The curtain drops by deep request.
For the Clearer of the Air from on high has spoken and the unhappitents of the earth have terrembled from firmament unto fundament and from tweedledeedumms down to twiddledeedees.
Loud, hear us!
Loud, graciously hear us!
Now have thy children entered into their habitations. Thou hast closed the portals of the habitations of thy children and thou hast set thy guards thereby that thy children may read in the book of the opening of the mind to thy light and err not in the darkness which is the afterthought of thy nomatter by the guardiance of those guards which are thy bodemen, Pray-your-Prayers Timothy and
O Loud, hear the wee beseech of thees, of each of these thy unlitten ones! Grant sleep in hour's time, O Loud!
That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowlattrees.
Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughters low!
Ha he hi ho hu.