While way back home in Pacata Hibernia, little land, |5untilled, greeny island, |aHolya| gammel Eire,5|
one word burrowing on another, Standfest, our topical hero, signs is on his |5big5| bastilleº back and his white patch, the towelturbaned, and Flower, a silvering
|5for to5| her jubilee with eve's birch leaves for her jointure, our lady in waving, girt with a wraparound, visage full of flesh and fat as hen's in forehead, Airyanna and Blowybart,
|5topsir and |aturvie turvya|,5| that royal
pair |5(though of coarse he's too big for her |awith such a lot of fulness bunched up behind
hima|)5|, in their ofttimes slated house of the hundred bottles, a palace of quicken boughs hightº Theº Goat and Compasses (phone number 17:69, if you want to know) discusst
|5the their things of the5| past,
|5crime and fable with shame, home and profit, |awhy lui lied to lei and hun tried to kill ham,a|
but simpler vintner of vendibles,5| his sea |5arms armstrongs5| round her, her eyne
ashipwracked, the angerache of their love and the hungerbrood it bore em, scribbledehobbles, in whose
veins runs a mixture of |5while grass grows on the ark of 3 or 6000 tossings5|, are head bent hard upon their |5pensums theorems5|.
It is turned of seven with eight chimes all tolled. Dogs' vespers |5(dodge the gobbet from cor to ccur, cheat your choker and chew the cud)5| are at end. Yet wind will be ere fruminy time and the saying of fadervor be come and asterisks |5congealed behind the curtain during office hours,5| answer the most devouted of us until it gets bright and all cocks waken. Flying too are the evenbirds. And, for one superstationer at least, the hearse of the kine shall pass at last before the two birds|5, titlark and morningales,5| outbreak in dawnsong.
|5⇒5| What a terrible piece of business surely for such as keep his peace and follow his war, that old |5king chiefling5| |5of the in his5| sevencoloured |5sundaysuit sunday kilts5| |5of fall wear5| must be |5killed off bumped off most basely as the cultic rite has it |aand sent the way of his fathersa|5| withsamt his |5banshee5| |5slapmother5| dam, |5a woman of straw |aand a horrible hena| |aif even a lady and obviously a respectable one, Annenette of her little name,a|5| and embalmed in honey for dynastic continuity, rivers breaking forth for joy at his funeral|5! as were he their nomarch at all but simpler vintner of vendibles, foodgatherer but no more, for all his four gorges.5|
But trifid tongue, others woo will and work for,
|5he being |aof kidlambsa| wise for them,5| becaused of his cleverism, till his very foes' heads are turned, and, dove without gall, that backslapping gladhander and his singing likeness who lives more in the florid future than in a past of bloody altars |5|aSulks and blanka| le petit qui ne veut pas manger sa soupe et |aet and Smiles and Smidgesa| le petit qui trè sa langue quand on lui dit de le faire5| with her|5, the twillick of a brace of boylets,5| whose mind's a jilldaw's nest |5(seeks sit as nurse or widow firm dress improvers, armslength waistband, good milker, would take the pledge, write |aP.O.a| to lorette commercials)º5| since she tears up bethrottle letters she ne'er posed a pen upon when bother her goldfashioned's in such a queer of a mood that she simply can't stand it, a couple and an odd one they strive and in earnest.
As if that three could solve, singly or together, the twohornheaded dulcarnon handed round aurally since Euclid's patent, that stumped Alex among anders and drove him to pulfer turnips. But, my hat, and beadroll of saints thereonto, what a worldall's woe of weariness is theirs, waiting to hear their own proper mistakes.
For how many duitsch guilders would one post now,º the Fluminian road orº Shanks' mare,º to the pillar? For one hundred? For one hundred's thousand? Why for? And for what will all such a taradiddle serve them in an after reeraw lifeº with oils and tins cheerful but guildeds glum? If a gas consumer, habituated to marble mantels, buys any number of scrupules of apples every other frosty Friday during a whole lean year at the weight of too many sesterces a pound overthepoise, taking abbaco as seven point seven and letting foundling of bulrushes stand for any woman, what a grand total of sentinels in reindeer pelts and aided by a spick span of homeless cattle, fed upon Trinidad's shell cocoa and miring in sheets and sheets of showers will it take to paper a trench even so mucky
longerº than a cobbler's bulk is broad?
Will it make of one a good milker this having been bread and buttered up in Porterstown on superlatives and under |5duress of5| stern ordersº?
(Say,º gypsy augur or weird wise woman?|5)5| Or will this alter, thick of his thigh, go to outlands in a peajacket as a roaming catharick and just not be silly or, caring dumb all toppings for the birthrate or the public his
health,º sit on another'sº seat|5, gleeful as any girlsweller,5| and lean to loungily on his lentils? Wrong!
Antruistº animal will live dangerously like Daredevil Donnelly and, mickleless as never a wight was, find somehow |5no matter how
|amoreovera|5| and evermore the petty cash to crack diurnally a box of |5lucifers luciferts5|.
Or,º if she seeks
and mates an earth of heaven, the sweet one, will she lilt with convulsions that Barney take her home again? For so long as shes in dimity underalls even if one piece ensembled with her lapbitch companion read Storycarrier's holy marrimony serials of love thanks to upholstery and in applepie bed, such as Irish Destiny in four reels, in a bummeltrain with a lot of uninteresting duck trousers hanging around, as it is wholly probable as a holy parable that the worst at long leash may hope to happen, such as go to meet Mary, miss Mamie and marry Meg. |5Were she the light lamp of the lighthouse herself simpletenuously |aas on ofa| her natural she's a merbaby so blank.5| Why the devilkins ask any Tossy Madden |5in Yesland5| or Nervous Nelly of Holy God, whateverº be her hoydenname,º sense |5in proper words5| from any posycard
that shred scenting as how every annual has its actual aroma. Even recollecting of a tree is far too lovely a spellbinder for her to listen.
Small blame be hers therefore that she shook her simply shoe off at geography giggle, doing provinces of Persia, |5and Alpennines and all that stuff,5| when Pa let me go too's tonic sulphur was
outsung with a whispered wilfulness heard fore you could whistle an Ave from Hazelizod round this giddying globe! Remember she speaks Cashmir and you|5, allbeyou her intended,5| cannot
|5her5| industand. Bewise of Fanciulla's heart, the heart of Fanciulla, fluff, and her hand that's as gloveless as a peer's in the presence, la pura è pia bella of those hazelblue eyes of woodside beauty and that linefree face.
|5What painter could do them justice? Yet. Add to these that musical sneeze of her and and those little
four will be readymaid marrying and disengaged for real palships with all or any hellsent lovethieves or beauty burglars who have scrapedº her acquaintance when Jollycomes out for it mashing home. And if one has no abjection one may go to the length of saying: a very good thing too. Groomsman, bridegame, spousemanº, prey. Though her loinstones be of jade and her moon increscent, she will swoon over Percy Bussheº so as, as in the Askhimwhose, to get a crush on the cornerman and only learn from a Dalcroze teachment the how to drop her gift umbrella. See! See!
But her truest foible, as the little grey nuns with feline ingenuity will school her without fuss or muss either, with brother Agnus in their
background, since today is well thine but whose will tomorrow's be, is to beg two makes in change for one wing. But when there's no more tay for sugar the cosey arrives that divinity showshapes their ends backview them how we will. For singleness on purposeº is all their gender's bugbear especiallyº when old which they all soonº get to look.
Pendent thisº time there he who for his pravityº will be either crowned orº hanged scans the errors of historyº from the parrotbook of Datas traduced into jinglish janglage
|5and ligatured in halfcalf5| for the usages of dolphinsº born. If the santimeter of Hairyoddities, that dull emitter, or Noah's misbelieving missus was to velivole
back all the ways |5by long acres of sea5| from Wallhollow and through their macroscopic telluspeep of whatswhatness,
just boyjones upon those |5obscolene5| pages, she would laugh that flat that after that she had sanked down on her fat arks they would shake all to sheeks. Hot work does us noº harmº and pending this time he who (bless his cowly head! |5is going to be a pope but first an acolyte5|), suckled at the breast of a peasant fosteress, because he nought would wet his weapon, will be a coward's castle pulpiticianer and apostle walker from the ball of his footup when he is not shuttling the sacred rattle, oriented actually though he be, sees not her signings nor the |5long5| multiplyings of her shadow |5when that Irish Thebaid |awith its three saints' orders drawers of soulsa| |ahasa| comes to stay5| but is ating, as he thinks at present, for his private salivation of the petrified knuts of knowledge and reckoning runes
off a blackthorn messagestick |5(or is it an ash sapling)5|, so as to befit him for the massacre, by pitchcap |5prob5| and triangle |5tripos5|, of the blissbrigade of the innocentsº and the holy murder of the hydrodux, while still preserving that stained glass face effect (you would surely swear butter would not melt in his breeches) and piling up sapience, an omnitude of jadg and daktarº as sagely as Anisocrates.º