Page 198

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your pipes and fall ahumming, you born ijypt, and you're no-
thing short of one! Well, ptellomey soon and curb your escumo.
When they saw him shoot swift up her sheba sheath, like any
gay lord salomon, her bulls they were ruhring, surfed with
spree. Boyarka buah! Boyana bueh! He erned his lille Bunbath
hard, our staly bred, the trader. He did. Look at here. In this wet
of his prow. Don't you know he was kaldt a bairn of the brine,
Wasserbourne the waterbaby? Havemmarea, so he was! H.C.E
has a codfisck ee. Shyr she's nearly as badher as him herself.
Who? Anna Livia? Ay, Anna Livia. Do you know she was call-
ing bakvandets sals from all around, nyumba noo, chamba choo,
to go in till him, her erring cheef, and tickle the pontiff aisy-oisy?
She was? Gota pot! Yssel that the limmat? As El Negro winced
when he wonced in La Plate. O, tell me all I want to hear, how
loft she was lift a laddery dextro! A coneywink after the bunting
fell. Letting on she didn't care, sina feza, me absantee, him man
in passession, the proxenete! Proxenete and phwhat is phthat?
Emme for your reussischer Honddu jarkon! Tell us in franca
langua. And call a spate a spate. Did they never sharee you ebro
at skol, you antiabecedarian? It's just the same as if I was to go
par examplum now in conservancy's cause out of telekinesis and
proxenete you. For coxyt sake and is that what she is? Botlettle
I thought she'd act that loa. Didn't you spot her in her windaug,
wubbling up on an osiery chair, with a meusic before her all
cunniform letters, pretending to ribble a reedy derg on a fiddle
she bogans without a band on? Sure she can't fiddan a dee, with
bow or abandon! Sure, she can't! Tista suck. Well, I never now
heard the like of that! Tell me moher. Tell me moatst. Well, old
Humber was as glommen as grampus, with the tares at his thor
and the buboes for ages and neither bowman nor shot abroad and
bales allbrant on the crests of rockies and nera lamp in kitchen or
church and giant's holes in Grafton's causeway and deathcap
mushrooms round Funglus grave and the great tribune's barrow
all darnels occumule, sittang sambre on his sett, drammen and
drommen, usking queasy quizzers of his ruful continence, his
childlinen scarf to encourage his obsequies where he'd check their