Page 555

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    What was thaas? Fog was whaas? Too mult sleepth. Let 
sleepth.
    But really now whenabouts? Expatiate then how much times 
we live in. Yes?
    So,nat by night by naught by naket, in those good old lousy 
days gone by, the days, shall we say? of Whom shall we say?
while kinderwardens minded their twinsbed, therenow they-
stood, the sycomores, all four of them, in their quartan agues, the
majorchy, the minorchy, the everso and the fermentarian with
their ballyhooric blowreaper, titranicht by tetranoxst, at their
pussycorners, and that old time pallyollogass, playing copers fear-
some, with Gus Walker, the cuddy, and his poor old dying
boosy cough, esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin, dell me, donk,
the way to wumblin. Follow me beeline and you're bumblin,
esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin. And listening. So gladdied up
when nicechild Kevin Mary (who was going to be comman-
deering chief of the choirboys' brigade the moment he grew up
under all the auspices) irishsmiled in his milky way of cream
dwibble and onage tustard and dessed tabbage, frighted out when
badbrat Jerry Godolphing (who was hurrying to be cardinal
scullion in a night refuge as bald as he was cured enough
unerr all the hospitals) furrinfrowned down his wrinkly waste
of methylated spirits, ick,and lemoncholy lees, ick, and pulverised
rhubarbarorum, icky;