2nd typescript, October-November 1938, II.2§7 draft level 4, 4+, 4++

MS Private 1; British Library 47480 275-298 Draft details

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Boumce! It is polisignstunter. The Sockerson boy. To pump the fire of the lewd into those soulths of bauchees, havsousedovers, tillfellthey deadwar knootvindict. An whele time he was rancing there smutsy flaskons nodunder ycholerd for their poopishers, ahull onem! Fyre maynoother endnow! Shatten up ship! Bouououmce! Nomo clandoilskins cheakinlevers! All ashored for Capolic Gizzards! Stowlaway there, glutany of
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stainks. Porterfillyers and spirituous suncksters! Oooom oooom!

As these vitupetards in his boasum he did strongleholder, bushbrows, nobblynape, swinglyswanglers, sunkentrunk, that from tin of |4the this4| clucken hadded runced slapottleslup. For him had hord from fard a piping. As? Of? Dour Douchy was a sieguldson, He cooed that loud nor he was young, He cud bad caw nor he was gray, Like wather parted from the say.

Ostia, lift it! Lift at it, Ostia! From the say. Away from the say.

Himhim. Himhim.

Hearhasting he, himmed, reromembered all the chubbs, chipps, chaffs, chuckinpucks and chayney chimebells That he had mistributed in port, pub, park, pantry and poultryhouse, While they, thered, the others, that are, were most emulously concerned to cupturing the last dropes of summour down through their grooves of blarneying, Ere the sockson locked at the dure. Which he would, shuttinshure. And lave them to sture.

For be all rules of sport 'tis right, That youth bedower'd to charm the night, Whilst age is dumped to mind the day, When wather parted from the say.

The humming, it's coming. Insway onsway.

Fingool, MacKishguard, Obesume, Burgeurse, Benefice, He was bowen hem and scrapin him in recolcitrantament to the rightabout And these probonopubblicoes clamatising for an extinsion on his hostillery With his chargehand bombing their eres. Tide, genmen, plays, she been goin shoother aff allmaynoother onawares.

You here nort farwellens rouster? Ashiffle ashuffle the wayve they.

From Dancingtree till Suttonstone Theres lads no lie would filch a crown To mull their |4punch sack4| and brew their tay With wather parted from the say.

Lelong Awaindhoo's a selverbourne enrouted to Rochelle Lane and libreties those Mullinguard minstrelsers are marshalsing par tunepiped road under where perked on hollowy hill that poor man of Lyones, good Dook Weltington, hugon come errindwards,
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had hircomed to the belles' bows and been catattrapped by the mausers. Now is it town again, londmear of Dublin. And off coursse the toller, ples the dotter of his eyes with her: Moke the Wanst, whye doe we aime alike a pose of poeter peaced? While the dumb he shoots the shopper rope. And they all pour forth. Sans butly
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Tuppeter Sowyer, the rouged engenerand, a barttler of the beauyne, still our benjamin liefest, sometime frankling to thise citye, whereas bigrented him a piers half subporters for his arms, Josiah Pipkin, Amos Love, Raoul Le Febber, Blaize Taboutot, Jeremy Yopp, Francist de Loomis, Hardy Smith and Sequin Pettit followed by the snug saloon seanad of our Café Béranger. The scenictutors. Because they wonted to get out by the goatweigh afore the sheep was looset for to wish the Wobbleton Whiteleg Welshers kaillykailly kellykekkle and savebeck to brownhazelwood from all the dinnasdoolins on the labious banks of their swensewn snewwesner, turned again weastinghome, |4|atill bya| Danesbury Common,4| and they onely, duoly, thruely, fairly after rainydraining fountybuckets (chalkem up, hemptyempty!) till they caught the wind abroad (alley loafers passingjeering!) all the rockers on the roads and all the boots in the stretes.

Oh dere! Ah hoy!

Last ye, lundsmin, hasty hosty! For an anondation of mirification and the lutification of our paludination.

His |4battle's broke bludgeon's bruk4|, his drum is tore, For spuds we'll keep the hat he wore, And roll in clover |4o'er on4| his clay, By wather parted from the say.


From Free Rogue Mountone till Dew Mild Well to corry awen and glowry. Are now met by Bawnaboy Fuinnuiguinn's former for a lyncheon partyng of his burgherbooh. The Shanavan Wacht. Rantinroarin Batteries Dorans. And that whistling thief, O'Ryne O'Rann. With a catch of her cunning and nowhere a keener.

The fore olders were aspolootly at their wetsends in the moiling walters, trying to. Hide! Seek! Hide! Seek! Because number one lived at |+4Botthersby Bothersbyº+|4| North and he was trying to. Hide! Seek! Hide!
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Seek! And number two digged up Poors Coort |+4South and number three down Lally's Lane, Soother,º+|4| trying to. Hide! Seek! Hide! Seek! |4|+And numberº three he sleeped with Lilly Tekkles, at The Eats and he was trying to.º+|4| And |4|+the+|4| last with the |4sailuloyd sailalloydº4| donggie he was berthed on the |+4Bohermore Moherboher to the Washte+|4| and they were all trying to and baffling with the walters of, hoompsydoompsy walters of. High! Sink! High! Sink! |4|+Highohigh! Sinkasink!+|4|

|4|+⇒ Waves.+|4|

|4|+⇒ The gangstairs |a|sbnoise strainsb|a| and |aangers anger'sa| up As Hoisty rares the can and cup To speed the bogre's barque away O'er |awarter wathera| parted from the say.+|4|

Horkus chiefest ebblynuncies!

|+4+|4| He shook be ashaped of hempshelves, |+4heaving hiding+|4| that shepe in his goat. |4|+And for rassembling |aso bearfellseda| the magreedy prince of |aRogerd the Thard Rogerº Thuthuda|.
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Heigh hohse, heigh hohse, our kindom from an orse! |aBruni Lanno's woollies on Brani Lonni's hairyparts. |bAnd the hunk in his trunk it would be an insalt |cfoul the matter of thatc| |csellaring cellaringc| to a pigstrough.
b|a|+|4| Stop his laysense. You would think he was Alddaublin. Staking his lordsure like a gourd on puncheon. Deblinity devined! Wholehunting the pairk on a methylogical mission whenever theres imberillas! And calling Rina Roner Reinette Ronayne. |4To what mine answarº is a lemin lemans.4| Arderleys, beedles and postbillers heard him. |4|+Three points to one.+|4| Ericus Vericus corrupted |+4to intoº+|4| ware eggs. |4|+Dummy up, distillery! Broree aboo! Run him a johnsgate down jameseslane!º+|4| Begetting a wife which begame his nieces by pouring her youngthings into |+4skintights skintighs+|4|. That was when he had dizzy spells. Till Gladstools Pillools made him ride as the mall. Thanks to his huedobrass beerd. Lodebroke the Longman, now he canseels under veerious persons but is always that Rorke relly. On consideration for the musickers he ought to have down it. |4Pass out your |++check cheeks++|, why daunt you?º |+Penalty, please!+| |++Thenº you'll know how warder barded the bollhead that parssed our alley.++|4| This is not the end of this by no manners means. In preplay to Anonymay's lefthinted palinode obviously inspiterabled by a sibspecious connexion. |4Note the notes of admiration! See the signs of suspicion! Count the hemisemidemicolons! Screamer caps and invented gommas, quoites puntlost, forced to farce! The pipette will say anything at all for a change. And you know what aglove means in |athea| Murdrus dueluct?º Fewer to feud and rompant culotticism|++, a fugle for the gleemen and save, sit and sew++|. |++In some, lawanorder on lovinardor.++| Well tried,º bucktiffº! Batt it in, boot! Sell him a breach contact, the vendoror, the buylawyer! One hydeº sack, hic! Two stick holst, huckyº! |saFinnis McGoal! Finnish Make Goal!sa| Firstº you were Nomad, next you were Namar, now you're Numah and it's soon you'll be Nomon. |++There's every resumption.++| The forgein offils |++will is on the shove to++| lay |ayoua| out dossier. Darby's in the yard, planning it. on you, |++plot
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and edgings,++| the whispering peelerº |aafter Cooksº wearing an illformationa|. |a|bThe find of his kind!b| An artist, sir! And dirt cheapº at a sovereign a skull!a| He knows |ahisa| Finsbury Follies |++backwards backwoods++| so you |++better batter++| see toº your |++regent++| refutation. |aAscare winde is rifing again about nice boys going native.a| You know who was wrote about in the Orange Book of |++Estchapel. Estchapel?++| Basil and the two other men from King's Avenance.
4| |4Wait till they |+put send+| you to sleep, scowpow! |++By jurors' cruces!º++| |+And you face all us rangers again you in the |++box! box before the twelfth correctional.++|+| |++Between all the Misses Mountsackvilles in |athe theira| halfmoon haemicycles |apraying gaspinga| to giddies to dye for the shame. Just hold hard till the one we leapt out gets her yearing! Heard Hired in cameras, extra!++| |++With His Honour Surpacker |ato try to cause on the bingea|. So yelp your guilt and |akids kitza| the buck. Forwards!++| One |aof your sons bully sonºa| growing the gaff and his twinger read out by the Nazi Priers. You f fought as how they'd never woxen up, did you|++, crucketº++|? It will wecker your |+earors earse+|, that it will! When hives the court to exchequer 'tis the child which gives the sire away. Good for you, Richmond Rover! Scrum around, our side! |aGive him one Let him have anothera| between the spindlers. A grand game! |+Dalymount's decisive.+| Don Gouverneur Buckley's in the Tara Tribune sportingº the insides of a Rhutian Jhanaral and little Mrs Skaerer-Sissers |ashe's is isa| bribing the halfpricers to pray for her widower in his gravest embazzlement. |+Playing down the slavey touch. Much as she was when the fancy cutter out collecting milestones found |aspied espieda| her aseesaw |afrom |++out of on++|a| a fern. You cannot make a limousine lady out of a hillman minx.+| |+This is a bulgen |ahersies horesiesa|, this is a wollan in indulgencies, this is a fflemshº. Tik.+| Scapulars, beads and a stump of a candle, Hubert was a Hunter,º chemins de |alaa| croixes and Rosairette's |aegg. |begg. She egg that sheºb| picked |bthemb| up after the Clontarf by-election |+byelection voterloost+| when O'Bryan MacBruiserº bet Norrisº Nobnuta|. Umpthump, |++Mr Here++| Inkeeper, it's the doatereen's wednessmorn! The groom is in the greenhouse gattling out his. Gum! That's Lat's That lad's the style forº Lannigan's ball! Now a drive on the naval! Neverº mind your |+gibbosity! gibbous.º+| Slip on your ropen collar and draw the noosebag on your head. Nobody ' will know or heed you if you slip round |++schlymartin++| by the back and come front |++sloomutren++| to beg |sain one of the
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|+youngsters' shavers'+| sailorsuitssa|. |+We'll |alove to see |++lo to behold split to seeº++|a| you mouldem imparvious. A wing for |aolda| Welsey Wandrer!+| There's |++old++| Mumblesome |++Wadding++| Murch cranking up |++to++| the |ahonamonium |+honemonium |++hornemonium hornemoonium++|+|a|. Feeling the jitters? You'll be as tight as Trivett when the knot's knutted on. Now's your never! Peena and Queena are duetting a giggle-for-giggle and the brideen Alannah is lost in her diamindwaiting. What a magnificent gesture |sayou will |byou'll you willb|sa| show us this gallus day. |++Clean and easy, be the hooker! And a free for croaks after. Dovlen are out for it. ++| And, hike, here's the hearse and |+four+| horses with the |+four interprovincial+| |acrucifixers crucifixionersºa| |adrawing throwingºa| lots |++inside! inside to know whose to be their gosson and whereas to |abreak brakea| the news to morhor. |aHow our mysterbilderº |bhas hisb| fullen aslip.a| |aAnd who will wager but it's |bhes he'llb| Shonny Bhoy |bbe, the fleshlumpfleeter,ºb| from Poshtapengha and all he bares sobsconcious inklings shadowed on soulskin. Its |bsignet segnetb| yores, the strake of a hin. Nup.a| Laying the cloth, to fore of them. And thanking the fish, in core of them. To pass the grace for Gard sake! Ahmohn.++| Mr |saJusticiary Justiciansa| Matthews and Mr |saJusticiary Justiciansa| Marks and Mr |saJusticiary Justiciansa| Luke Luk de Luc and Mr |saJustiary Justicianºsa| |aJohnson-Johnston Johnston-Johnsona|. And the aaskart, see, behind! |aHelp,º help, hurray!a| Allsup, allsop!º Four ghools to nail! Dang! Ding! Dong! Dung! Dinnin. Isn't it great he is swaying above us for his good
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and ours. We could ate you, |++per Buccus par Buccas++|, and imbabe through you |++reassuranced++| in the wild lac of gotliness. |++One fledge, one brood till Hulm culms evurdyburdy.++| Huhº the throman! Huh the traidor. Huh the |++blank truh.
++|4| Errorsure|4,º4| he's the mannork of Arrahland oversense he horrhorrd his name in thuthunder. Rrrwwwkkkrrr! |4Of the rollorrishrattillary.4| And seen it rudden up in fusefiressence on the |++4fashmurket flashmurket++|4|. P.R.C.R.L.L. Royloy. |4Of the |+rollorrishrattillary rollorrish rattillary+|.4| The lewdningbluebolteredallucktruckalltraumconductor! But we're molting superstituettes out of his fulse thorotin guts. |4|++Tried mark, Easterlings. Sign, |aSoderic Sidericºa| O'Cunnuc, |aRux Rixa|. |saAdversed ord, Magtmorken,| A die for due and Du for Dy.º++| |+There's a |++fine great++| conversion|++, mynº++|!+|4| Coucous! Find his causcaus! From Motometusolum through Bulley and Cowlie and |++4pass in your checkmates Diggerydiggerydock++|4| down to baseness's usual. |++4There's a light He's alight++|4| there still, by |4Mike. Mike!4| Loose afore! Bung! Bring |4out forth4| your deed! Bang! Till is the right time. |4|++Bang! Partick Thistle agen S. Megan's versus Brystal Palace agus the Walsall! Putsch!++|4| Tiemore moretis tisturb badday! The playgue will be soon over, rats! |4|+Let sin! Geh toutº! All we wants is to get peace for possession.+|4| We
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dinned unnerstunned why you sassad about thurteen to aloafen, sor, kindly repeat! Or ledn us |4alonese alones4| of your lungorge, parsonifier propounde of our edelweissed idol worts! Shaw and Shea are lorning obsen so hurgle up, |++4and farder gandfarder++|4|, and gurgle me gurk. You can't impose on frayshouters like os. Every tub here spucks his own fat. Hang coersion everyhow! And smotthermock Gramm's laws! But we're a drippindhrue |++4gaeleague gayleagueº++|4| all at ones. In the buginning is the woid, in the muddle is the sounddance and thoreinofter you're in the unbewised again, vund vulsyvolsy. You talker dunsker's brogue men we our souls speech obstruct hostery. Silence in thought! |++4Speech! Spreach!++|4| Wear an artful of outer nocense! |4|aPapa Pawpaw,a| wowwowº!4| Momerry twelfths, noebroed! That was a good one, ha! So it will be quite a material what May farther be |++4unveloped unvuloped++|4| for you, old Mighty, when it's aped to foul a delfian in the Mahnung, ha ha! Talk of Paddybarke's
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echo! Kick nuck, Knockcastle, Muck. And you'll nose it, O you'll nose it without |++4warnword warnward++|4| from we. We don't know the sendor towhome. |4|++But you'll find Chiggenchugger's |awinning takinga| the Treaclyshortcake with Bugle and the Bitch |apairadrawsing pairsadrawsinga| and Horssmayresº Prosession tyghting up under the threes. Stop. Press stop. To press stop. All to press stop.++|4| And, be the seem talkin, wharabahts hosetanzies, dat sure is sullibrated word? Bing bong! Saxolooter! For congesters are salders' prey. |4|+Snap it up in the loose, patchy the blank! Anyone can see you're the son of a gunnell. Fellow him up too, Carlow!+|4| Woes to the wormquashed, aye, and wors to the winner! |4|+Think of Aerian's Wall and the Fall of Toss.+|4| Give him another for to volleyholley doodlem! His lights not all out yet, the liverpooser! Boohoohoo it oose! With seven hores always in the home of his |++4thoughts, thinkingthings,º++|4| his nodsloddledome of his |++4noiselisslesoughts, noiselisslesoughts.++|4| |++4two Two++|4| Idas, two Evas, two Nessies and Rubyjuby. Phook! No wonder, pipes |++4and gurgls as kirles++|4|, that he sthings like a rheinbok. One bed night he had the delysiums that they were all queens mobbing him. Feel stiff. Oh, ho, ho, ho, ah, he, he! |4|++Abedicate yourself!º++|4| It just gegs our |v++4goad! goad.v++|4| He'll be the deaf of us, pappappoppopcuddle, samblind daiyrudder. Yus, sord, fathe, yuo woll, putty our wraughther! Beng! We sincerestly trust that Missus with the |4kids kiddies4| of sweet Gorteen has not B I N K to their very least tittles deranged if in B U N K and we greesiously augur for Your Meggers a B E N K  B A N K B O N K to sloop in with all sorts of odceteras and adsaturas. |4The refergee's took to hailing to time the pass. Right toe, Armitage!4| So we'll leave it to Keyhoe, Danelly and Pykemhyme, the three muskrateers,
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|4at the end of this age4| that had it from Variants' Katey Sherratt that had it from Variants' Katey Sherratt's man for the bonnefacies of |4Blanchewhite Blashwhite4| and Blushred |4of the Aquasancta Liffey Patrol4| to wind up and to tells of all befells after that to Mocked Majesty in the Malincurred Mansion.

So you were saying, boys? Anyhow he what?

So anyhow|4, melumps and mumpos of the hoose uncommons,4| after that to wind up that |4long to be chronicled longtobechronicledº4| |4get together gettogether thanksbetogiving4| day at Glenfinnisk-en-la-Valle, the anniversary of his first holy communion, after that same barbecue beanfeast was all over poor old hospitable |4corn and eggfactorº4| King Roderick O'Conor, the paramount chief polemarch and last preelectric king of all Ireland who was anything you say yourself between |s4fiftyfour and fiftyfive fiftyodd and fiftyevens4| years of age at the time after the socalled last supper he greatly gave those maltknights and beerchurls in his umbrageous house of the hundred bottles|4, withº the radio |sabeacon beamersa| tower and its hangars, chimbneys and equilines,º4| or at least he wasn't actually the then last king of all Ireland for the time being for the jolly good reason that he was still such as he was the eminent king of all Ireland himself after the last preeminent king of all Ireland, the whilom joky old top that went before him |4in the Taharan dynasty,4| King |4Art MacMurrough Kavanagh Arth Mockmorrow Koughenough4| of the |4leather leggings leathered leggions4|, now of parts |4unknown, unknown4| |4God (Godº4| guard his generous |4comicsongbookº4| |4soul soul!),º4| that put a poached fowl in the poor man's pot before he took to his pallyass with the weeping eczema for better and worse until he went under the grass quilt on us nevertheless the year the sugar was scarce and we |4|~outkicking coal to peater the grate~|4| to lather and shave and frizzle him like a bald surging buoy and himself down to three cows that was meat and drink and dogs and washing to him, 'tis good cause we have to remember it, going through summersultryngs of snow and sleet with the widow Nolan's |4goat goats4| and the Brownes girls neats, anyhow wait till I tell you what did he do poor old Roderick O'Conor Rex, the auspicious waterproof monarch of all Ireland when he found himself all alone by himself in his grand old |4historic handwedown4| pile after all of them had all gone off with themselves to their castles of
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mud as best they |4could cud4| on footback owing to the leak of McCarthy's mare in extended order a tree's length from the longest way out down the switchbackward |4road slidder of the landsown routeº of Hauburnea's liveliest village vinnage on the brain4|, the unimportant Parthalonians with the mouldy Firbolgs and the Tuatha de Danaan googs and the ramblers from Clane and all the rest of the notmuchers and other slygrogging suburbanites that he didn't care the royal spit out of his
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ostensible mouth about well what do you think he did, sir, but faix he just went heeltapping through the winespilth and weevily popcorks that were kneedeep round his own right royal round rollicking topers' table with his old Roderick Random pullon hat at a Lanty Leary cant on him and Mike Brady's shirt and Greene's linnet collarbow and his ghenter's gaunts and his Macclefield's swash and his readymade Reillys and his panprestuberian poncho, the body you'd pity him, the way the world is, poor he, the heart of Midleinster and the supereminent lord of them all, overwhelmed as he was with black ruin like a sponge out of water allocutioning in |4bellcantes bellcantos |ato his own oliverian societya|4| McGuiney's Dreans of Ergen Adams and thrumming through all to himself with diversed tonguesed through his old tears and his ould plaised drawl starkened by the most regal of belches like a blurney Cashelamagh crooner that larking Clare air, the blackbard's ballad I've a terrible errible lot |4todo today todo toderribleday todue todie todue tootorribleday,4| well what did he go and do at all His Most Exuberant Majesty King Roderick O'Conor but arrah bedamnbut he finalised by lowering his woolly throat with the wonderful midnight thirst was on him as keen as mustard he could not tell what he did ale, |s4so thatºs4| bothered |s4from the head to the tail he was from head to tails4|, and wishawishawish leave it what the Irish, boys, can do if he didn't go sliggymaglooral reemyround and suck up sure enough like a Trojan in some particular cases with the assistance of his venerated tongue whatever surplus rotgut sorra much was left by the lazy lousers in the different bottoms of the various different replenquished drinking utensils left there behind them on the premises by that whole hogsheaded firkin family of departed honourable homegoers
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such as it was, fall and fall about, |4to theº brindishing of his charmed life, as toastified by his cheeriubicundenances,4| no matter whether it was chateaubottled Guinness's or Phoenix brewery stout it was or John Jameson and Sons or Roob Coccola or for the matter of that O'Connell's famous old Dublin ale that he wanted like hell |4more thanº halibut oil or jesuits tea4| as a fallback of several different quantities and qualities amounting in all to I should say considerably more than the better part of a gill or naggin of imperial dry and liquid measure till, welcome be from us here, till the rising of the morn, till that hen of Kaven's shows her beaconegg and Chapwellsendows stain our horyhistoricold and Father MacMichael stamps for aitch o'clerk mess and the Litvian Newestlatter is seen, sold and delivered |4and all's set for restart after the silence4|, till like his ancestors to this day after him |4(that the blazings of their ouldmouldy gods may attend to them we pray!)|a, overopposides the cowery lad in the corner and forenenst the staregaze of the cathering candled, that adornment of his album and folkenfather of |bhis family familyea familyansb|,a|4| he came acrash a crupper sort of a
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sate on accomondation and the very boxst in all his composs whereuponce, heave hone, leave lone, Larry's on the focse and |4Feag MacHugh O'Byrne Faugh MacHugh O'Bawlar4| at the wheel, |4one to do and one to dare, par by par, a peerless pair, ever here and ot over there,4| with his fol the dee oll the doo on the flure of his feats and the feels of the fumes in the wakes of his ears our wineman from Barleyhome he just slumped to throne.

So sailed the stout ship Nansy Hans. From Liff away. For |4Nattenländer Nattenlaender4|. As who has come returns. Farvel, farerne! Goodbark, goodbye!

Now follow we out by Starloe!