2nd draft, early 1937, II.2§4 draft level 1

MS British Library 47480 5-7 Draft details

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Taff — All was flashning and krashning blurtymoriartsky blucherudd? Tell ever so often?

Butt — Till even so aften. Sea vaast a pool!

Taff — Humme to our mounthings! Conscribe him tillusk, unt. The grandsapper |1with his soilday |aside sizea| out & his mouldy side in1|! Endues paramilintary langdwage, the good old gunshop monowards for manosymples. missing May he be too an intrepidation of our dreams which we foregot at wiking |1when the morn hath razed our Lumpalove1| the bleakfrost chilled our |1rovery ravery1|. Lets hear in rerember the braise of. Hold!

Butt — Bog carsse ond dam mat, sar! Limbers affront of him, lumbers behunnd. missing He was emnivallupped. missing In his raglanrock and his malakoiffed bulbsbyg and his varnashed roscians and his cardigan's blousejagged and his scarlett manchokuffs and his treecoloured camiflags and his perikopendulous gaelstorms. From Karrs and Polikoffs, the men's confactioners.

Taff — Toadlebens! |1Some garmentman!1| Say mangraphique, may say nay par daguerre!

Butt — |1Come alleyore!1| A bear raigning in his heavenspawn consomation robes. |1Then he st stoo stoopt.1|

Taff — Scutterer of guld! The |1so sow1| sown of a fitch! |1In his walshbrushup!1|

Butt — Here furry glunn, there feery pass. And the buddies behide in the byre. Allahblah!

Taff — O day of rath! Ah, murther of mines! Beirnesson MacMahahon from Osro bearing
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nose easger on his swooth prowl?

Butt — Bruinboroff, the hooneymoonger, and the grizzliest manmichal in Meideveide.

Taff — Divolge! |1A forward movement. And despatch!1| See that we soll or let thee be luna! Bang on the booche, gurg in the gorge, rap on the roof and your flap is unbu.....

Butt — Buckily buckily! |1Blodestained boyne!1| Bimbambombumb!

Taff — |1The balacleivka!1| Trovatorich! I tumble!

Butt — Mortar mortar, tartar wartar! |1Piffpaff for puffpuff and my pife for his cgar!1|

Taff — You had just been cerberating |1camp camp camp to Saint Sepulchre's march1| through the armeemonds retreat |1with the boys all marshalled scattering giant's hail over the curseway1| fellowed |1along the rout1| by the stenchions of the corpse|1, as strait a way as your ant's folly me line, O1|. If you please? Think some ingain think!

Butt — Yass, I did |1not, not. Don't brother me, |xcommeylad,x| I scout it,1| thank you. Ichts nichts on nichts. |1Of all the quirasses and all the quaremin |ain the tragedoes of the antiants their grandopera|. |aSmolking his scandleoose at buttends!a|1| I thinked |1about the itch in his egodoom1| he was |1recovering brath from some herdsquatters beyond the carcassus and I thanked he was1| |1going legging boldylugged1| to salubrate himself by |1ultradungs1| |1high heavenly1| mess |1|aat his basea| at the parish popes |athe reverend Ullever Comeleka|1| and |1I high eye1| was bibbering |1a few versets off, looking for my fifth foot.1| |1and I wented |ato tob toba| beat it.1| But when I seen him |1|a|bfetch alongb| within haila| and attempting1| like a |1brandylogged1| rudeman carthagic |1lugging up |athat tourribly talla| and1| laiding down his livepelt, and |1so crushinly1| expousing |1himself his old skinful self1| tailtottom |1|amanurevinga| |ain open |border ordureb|a| to remewnnurature1| with the cows |1of in1| their airish pleasantry |1I couldn't |aerver nerver toa| |atell a story storytell a liard, not |bfor fromb| lead or alimonya|. But when I got in full view |xin occupationx| of his basemiddelism, pagne ponge, my bill it forsooks allegiance (gut bull it!) &1| I addn't the arts to.

Taff — You hadn't the hurts to who?

Butt — |1I met with whom it was too late. 'Twas fate. O hate!º Farwail! And think of that when you smugs to bagot.1| Russian general.

Taff — |1Since you are on for versingrhetorish,º1| Say your piece! |1Vaersegood! Not off song, are you?1| Buckle to! Shinfine deed in the myrtle of the bog two fainmain stod op to slog, freebond men lay lurkin on, arrah, sir? |1|aTwill be a nice changea| bibbelboy.1|

Butt — Horrasure |1papaist1|! It was |1of a white horsday after the first equinox in the killender, moist moonful date man ever held death with1| somewhile in Crimealian wall samewhere in Ayerland. And I was |1in the |aReilly Oirisha| Kersonese Milesia good tomkeys years1| during my weeping stillstumns over the freshprosts of Eastcheap and the dangling
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garters of Marrowbone and daring my wapping stiltstunts on Bostion Mass, old stile and new style and heave a lep onwards. And winn again |1or lues the day,1| plays goat, the banshee pealer! |1The great day come San Patrisky and the grand day go blank |athat is to calumnkill all the prefacies of Ireland.a| |aHears heptahundread annam damnies to will be and was the timelag is in it.a|1| Gidding up me antivanillas and getting off the stissas me aunties. And swiping a johnnydamn sweept for to exercitise myself neverwithstanding his roaming cartridges all over Crumwilliam wall. Be the why it was me who, haw haw.

Taff — You |1unread1| who, how how?

Butt — Between me associations in the post and me misconnections with the futule, be the splunthers I've a boodle fullº of maimeries in me missing buzzim |1as I now |awith my gonea| recoil in (how things come back to one!) misenary1| for all them old boyars |1boomeringing |ain wailhollera|1|, me alma marthyrs. I think to them, |1|abycorn spirits fuselaiding,a| even were its contentsed water. |aJungleman in agleemeant I give thee |bour greetly swooren,b| Theoccupant the First, the Thronefollower and all our royal devouts with the arrest of the whole inhibitance of Nuiland.a| One brief mouth.1| me old attaches, the currgans, Cedric MacGormley and Danno O'Donnohoe and Conno O'Cannohar |1and for we were all in congress wood together with1| our miladies in their toileries. |1|afor the purposes of warmtha| and the charme of their light brocade!1| Help, help, hussars! |1Up lancesters!1| |1Andathem Anathem1|!

Taff — Where doth the pain lie, Mr Pench? |1Ist dramhead countmortial or gonorrhal stab? |aMind your Pughs & Keoghs now |bif you piggotb|! Has it |btandeur? tansy?b|a|1|

Butt — |1Defense of deboutchery |ain the chasste daffsa|! Be at the trouble of to not forgetting |aor betake yourself to flighta|! |aAnd you biget!a|1| Correct me |1for cossakes1| but I abjure of it. Yet still and all |1unlist I am gutting foegutfulls of the rugiments of wildfire1| I was gamefollow |1withmate willmate1| |1and send us victorias1| with |1Nowell and Browning,1| dumb, sneak and merry |1with all the fun I had in their Fanagan's wake1|. A strange man wearing abarrel. And here's a gift of meggs. And as I live by chipping nortons. And iron fits the farmer O. Them were the |1tepetope1| hellscyown days |1|afor our fellowsa| and we was the rawrecruitions, one long blue streak |aand witha| hand to hand1| |1|athat as on hona| Homard Kayenne was always jiggilyjugging about in his windowed courage1| when |1wine our way1| with |1woman the wenches1| went |1wild wined1| for a song. |1And we all tuned in to hear the topmost noviality. Up the revels, drown the rinks, and almistips all round! |aPaddy Bonham he vives! Encore. And tig for tag!a|1| I did not give |1a one1| humpunny dumps |1about touching1| the those thusengaged |1slavey1| generales |1|ain pronouncinga| their flanking movements |ain sunprettysboska|1| and|1, eyedulls or earwakers, prayers for rain or comminations1| I did not care three tanker's hurts over any feelings from my life privates|1|a, them three thurkmen,a| on their reptrograd leanins1|. |1Because I have |amy myssoeursa| assisters and she can |atell bellea| the troth |aon her alliancea| and I know my medam colonel and they would never let me down.1| Till |1up come Stumblebum with the same domstoole story |a(Whitesides do his beard!)a|1| I seen his offensive. |1Odious!1| And,
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|1my oreland for a roliver,1| by the splunthers of colt, |1and bung goes the enemay,1| I |1|athe Percy rally got me. Ia| insurrectiumed and I1| shuttm!. |1Thunbeliever! Tumbel Tumbleheaver!1|

Taff — |1Shooter reshottus! |xSieger besieged!x|1| Humme to your muskets? The grand old spider? |1|aI'm believer!a| And ballyclever of you, bragadore gin journal gunneral!1|

Butt — |1Kaptan, His Eminence1| Bloodymuddymuzzle |1(Backsights to his bared!)1|, the |1furstrate1| fourstar Russhakruschen connumdarumcheff.

Taff — |1And the name of the most marsifoul, the gragiousº one!1| In sobber sooth |1and in sober civiles? and to the dirtriment of his curtailment? of the lower man1|? |1You shattomavick? Sharpshooter? Sharpshooter? You shattomavick?1|

Butt — |1|aIn sabre Sabrea| tooth and sombre saviles. |aAllaf Khoran.a|1| Shurenoff.

Additions placed next draft

S Manover manunder and plenty to plunder for Lily Bolero with bullet a law!

The games what made our old woman umpire the top tip of that toured the world.

forfeits for me, forkits for you and a Nasp in his beds for Boney, O. The schwarthy man.

Corrupting, I cunreadled.

8 Kerry a liason & Christy a liason, Kelly a liason. Allicencey!