can’t impose on frayshouters like os. Every tub here spucks his own fat. Hang coersion everyhow! And smotther-mock Gramm’s laws! But we’re a drippindhrue gayleague all at ones. In the buginning is the woid, in the muddle is the sound-dance and thereinofter you’re in the unbewised again, vund vulsyvolsy. You talker dunsker’s brogue men we our souls speech obstruct hostery. Silence in thought! Spreach! Wear anartful of outer nocense! Pawpaw, wowow! Momerry twelfths, noebroed! That was a good one, ha! So it will be quite a material what May farther be unvuloped for you, old Mighty, when it’s aped to foul a delfian in the Mahnung. Ha ha! Talk of Paddy- barke’s echo! Kick nuck, Knockcastle! Muck! And you’ll nose it, O you’ll nose it, without warnward from we. We don’t know the sendor to whome. But you’ll find Chiggenchugger’s taking the Treaclyshortcake with Bugle and the Bitch