His almonence being alaterelly in dispensation with his three oldher patrons' aid, providencer's divine cow to milkfeeding mleckman, bonafacies to solafides, what matter what all his frendzay or who holds his hat to harm him let hutch just keep on under at being a vanished consinent and let annapal livibel prettily prattle a lude all her own. And, be that semeliminal salmon solemonly angled ingate and outgate, a truce to lovecalls, dulled in warclothes, maleybags, things and bleakhusen. Leave the letter that never begins to go, find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed at night.

Simply. As says the mug in the middle, nay brian nay noel, ney billy ney ^|4boney, blank boney.º^4|

Imagine twee cweamy wosen. Suppwose you get a beautiful thought and cull them sylvias sub silence. Then immaggin a stotterer. You may suppoutre him to been one biggermaster Omnibil. Then lustily (tutu the font and tritt on the bokswoods like gay feeters's dance) immengine up to three longly lurking lobstarts. Fair instents the Will Woolsley Wellaslayers. Pet her, pink him, play pranks with them. She will nod amproperly smile. He may seem to appraisiate it. They are as piractical jukersmen sure to paltipsypote. Feel the wollies drippeling out of your fingathumbs. Says two youssilves (floweers have ears, heahear!) solowly: Sooh these ease Budlim! How do, dainty daulimbs? So peached to pick on you in this way, prue and simple, pritt and spry. Heyday too, Malster Faunagon, and hopes your hahiti-tahiti licks the mankey nuts! And oodlum hoodlum doodlum to yes, Donn, Teague and Hurleg, who the bullocks brought you here and how the hillocks are ye?

We want Bud. We want Bud Budderly. We want Bud Budderly boddily. There he is in his Borrisalooner. The man that shunned the rucks on Gereland. The man that won the bettlle of the bawll. And tough. Order, order, order, order! We call on Tancred Artaxerxes Flavin to compeer with Barnabas Ulick Donn.
{f39, 338}
Order, order, order! Milster Malster in the chair. We've heard it sinse sung thousandtimes. How Burghley shuck the rackushant Germanon. For Ehren, boys, gobrawl!