Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 6

 SO,

Who do you no tonigh, lazy and gentleman? (p126)

The echo is where in the back of the wodes; callhim forth!

(Shaun Mac Irewick, brief-dragger, 

for the concern of Messrs Jhon Jhamieson and Song, 

rated one hundrick and thin per store-hundred 

on this nightly quis-qui-quock of the twelve apostrophes, 

set by Jockit Mic Ereweak. 

He misunder-struck and aim for am ollo of number three of them 

and left his free natural ripostes to four of them 

in their own fine artful disorder.)

—————————————————————————————-

I. 

What second-to-none myther rector 

and maximost bridge-smaker 

was the first to rise taller through his beanstale 

than the bluegum bua-boa-babbaun 

or the giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia; 


went nudi-boots with trouters into a liffeyette 

when she was barely in her tricklies; 


was well known to claud a conciliation cap onto the esker of his hooth; 


sports a chain-ganger’s albert solemenly over his hullender’s epulence; 


thought he weighed a new ton when there felled his first lap-apple; 


gave the heinousness of choice to every-knight 

betwixt yester-dicks and two-maries; 


had sevenal successive-coloured sereban-maids 

on the same big white drawring-roam horthrug; 


is a Willbeforce to this hour at house as he was in heather; 


pumped the catholick wartrey and shocked the prodestung boyne; 


killed his own hungery self in anger as a young man; 

found fodder for five when allmarken rose go-flooded; 


with Hirish tutores Cornish made easy; 


voucher (p127) of rotables, toll of the road; 


bred many-headed stepsons for one leap-your-own taughter; 


is too funny for a fish and has too much outside for an insect; 


like a heptagon crystal emprisoms trues and fauss for us; 


is infinite swell in unfitting induments; 


once was he shovelled 

and once was he arsoned 

and once was he inundered 

and she hung him out bill-bailey; 


has a quadrant in his tile to tell Toler cad a’clog it is; 


offers chances to Long on but stands up to Legge before; 


found coal at the end of his harrow 

and mossroses behind the seams; 


made a fort out of his postern 

and wrote F.E.R.T. on his buckler; 


is escapemaster-in-chief from all sorts of houding-places; 


if he out-harrods against barkers, to the shool-bred he acts whiteley; 


was evacuated at the mere appearance of three germhuns 

and twice besieged by a sweep; 


from zoo-morphology to omni-animalism 

he is brooched by the spin of a coin; 

towers, an eddistoon amid the lampless, 

casting swann-beams on the deep; 


threatens thunder upon malefactors 

and sends whispers up frau-frau’s frou-frous; 


when Dook Hook-back-crook upsits his ass 

boose-worthies jeer and junket 

but they boos him oos and baas his aas 

when he lukes like Hunkett Plunkett; 


by sos-ann-sos and search a party on a lady of this city; 


business, 

reading newspaper, 

smoking cigar, 

arranging tumblers on table, 

eating meals, 

pleasure, 

etcetera, etcetera, 

pleasure, 

eating meals, 

arranging tumblers on table, 

smoking cigar, 

reading newspaper, 

business; 


minerals, wash and brush up, local views, 


juju toffee, comic and birthdays cards; 


those were the days and he was their hero; 


pink sunset shower, red clay cloud, 

sorrow of Sahara, oxhide on Iren; 


arraigned and attainted, listed and lited, pleaded and proved; 


catches his check at banck of Indgangd 

and endurses his doom at chapel exit; 


brain of the franks, hand of the christian, tongue of the north; 


commands to dinner and calls the bluff; 


has a block at Morgen’s and a hatache all the afternunch; 


plays gehamerat when he’s ernst but misses mausey when he’s lustyg; 


walked as far as the Head where he sat in state as the Rump; 


shows Early English trace-marks 

and a marigold window with manigilt lights, 

a myrioscope, two remarkable piscines 

and three well-worth-seeing ambries; 


arches all portcullised and his nave dates from dots; 


is (p128) a horologe unstoppable and the Benn of all bells; 


fuit, isst and herit 

and though he’s mildew-staned he’s mouldy-stoned; 


is a quercuss in the forest but plane member for Mega-lopolis; 


mount-unmighty, faun-on-fleet-foot; 


plank in our platform, blank in our scouturn; 


hidal, in carucates he is enumerated, 

hold as an earl, he counts; 


ship-shaped phrase of bug-looking words 

with a form like the easing moments of a grami-nivorous; 


to our dooms brought he law, 

our manoirs he made his vill of; 


was an overgrind to the underground and acqueduced for fiery-throats; 


sends boys in socks a-cough-a-whooping 

when he lets farth his carbon-oxside 

and silk stockings show her shapings 

when he looses hose on hers; 


stocks dry puder for the Ill people 

and pinkun’s pellets for all the Pale; 


gave his mundy-foot to Miserius, 

her pinch to Anna Livia, 

that superfine pigtail to Cerisia Cerosia 

and quid rides to Titius, Caius and Sempronius; 


made the man who had no notion of shop-keepers 

feel he’d rather play the duke than play the gentleman; 


shot two queans and shook three caskles 

when he won his game of dwarfs; 


fumes inwards like a strombolist till he smokes at both ends; 


manmote, befier of him, woman-kind, pietad!; 


shows one white drift of snow among the gorse-growth of his crown 

and a chaperon of repentance on that which shed gore; 


pause and quies, triple bill; 


went by metro for the polis and then hoved by; 


to the finders, hail! woa, you that seek!; 


whom fillth had plenished, dearth devoured; 


hock is leading, cocoa comes next, emery tries for the flag; 


can dance the O’Bruin’s poler-passe at Noolahn 

to his own orchistruss accompaniment; 


took place before the internatural convention of catholic midwives 

and found stead before the congress for the study of endo-national calamities; 


makes a delictuous entrée 

and finishes off the course between sweets and savouries; 


flouts for forecasts, 

flairs for finds 

and the fun of the fray on the fairground; 


cleared out three hundred sixty five idles 

to set up one all khalassal for hen-wives hoping to have males; 


the flaw-hoolagh, the grasping one, the kindler of paschal fire; 


forbids us our trespassers as we forgate him; 


the phoenix be his pyre, the cineres his sire!; 


piles big pelium on little ossas like the pilluls of hirculeads; 


has an eatupus complex (p129) and a drink-the-dregs kink; 


wurst-meats for chumps and cow-carlows for scullions; 


when he plies for our favour is very trolly ours; 


two psychic espousals and three desertions; 


may be matter of fact now but was futter of magd then; 


Cattermole Hill, 

exmountain of flesh was reared up by stress 

and sank under strain; 

tank it up, dank it up, tells the tailor to his tout; 


en-tout-cas for a man, but bit a thimble for a maid; 


blimp, blump; a dud letter, a sing a song a sylble; 


a byword, a sentence with surcease; 


while stands his can-you-see-him frails shall fall; 


was hatched at Cellbridge but ejoculated abrood; 


as it gan in the biguinnengs so wound up in a battle of Boss; 


Roderick, Roderick, Roderick, O, 

you’ve gone the way of the Danes; 


variously catalogued, regularly regrouped; 


a bushboys holoday, a quacker’s mating, a wenches’ sandbath; 


the same homo-heatherous check-in-loss-egg 

as when solly-eye airly blew ye; 


real detonation but false report; 


spa mad but inn sane; 

half emillian via bogus census 


but a no street hausmann when allphannd; 


is the handiest of all andies 

and a most alleghant spot to dump your hump; 


hands his secession to the new patricius 

but plumps plebmatically for the bloody old centuries; 


eats with doors open and ruts with gates closed; 


some dub him Rotshield 

and more limn him Rocky-fellow; 


shows he’s fly to both demis-fairs 

but thries to cover up his tracers; 


seven dovecotes cooclaim to have been pigeon-heim to this homer, 

Smerrnion, Rhoebok, Kolonsreagh, 

Seapoint, Quayhowth, Ashtown, Ratheny; 


independent of the lordship of chamberlain, 

acknowledging the rule of Rome; 


we saw thy farm at Useful Prine, Domhnall, Domhnall; 


reeks like Ill-bel-paese and looks like Iceland’s ear; 


lodged at quot places, lived through tot reigns; 


takes a szumbath for his weekend 

and a wassar-nap for his refreskment; 


after a good bout at stool-ball enjoys Giro-flee Giro-flaa; 


what Nevermore missed and Colombo found; 


believes in everyman his own goald-keeper 

and in Africa for the full-blacks; 


the arc of his drive was forty full 

and his stumps were pulled at eighty; 


boasts him to the thick-in-thews the oldest creater in Aryania 

and looks down on the Suiss family Collesons 

whom he calls les nouvelles roches; 


though his heart, soul and spirit turn to pharaoph times, 

his love, faith and (p130) hope stick to futuerism; 


light leg-lifters cense him souriantes from afore 

while boor brow-benders curse him grommelants to his hindmost; 


between you-lasses and ye-ladst glimse of Even; 


the Lug his peak has, the Luk his pile; 


drinks tharr and wodhar for his asama 

and eats the unparishable sow to styve off reglar rack; 


the beggars cloak them reclined about his paddy-stool, 

the whores winken him as they walk their side; 


on Christienmas at Advent Lodge, New Yealand, 

after a lenty illness the roeverand Mr Easterling of pentecost-itis, 

no followers by bequest, fanfare all private; 


Gone Where Glory Waits Him (Ball, bulletist) 

but Not Here Yet (Maxwell, clark); 


comminxed under articles but phoenished a borgiess; 


from the vat on the bier 

through the burre in the dark 

to the buttle of the bawn; 


is A1 an the highest but Roh re his root; 


filled fanned of hackle-berries whenas all was tuck 

and toss up for him as a yangster to fall fou of hock-in-bechers 

wherein he had gauged the use of raisin; 


ads aliments, das doles, raps rustics, tams turmoil; 


sas seed enough for a semination but sues skivvies on the sly; 


learned to speak from hand to mouth 

till he could talk earish with his eyes shut; 


hacked his way through hick-heck-hocks 

but hanged hishelp from there hereafters; 


rialtos, annes-leyg, binn and balls to say nothing atolk of New Comyn; 


the gleam of the glow of the shine of the sun 

through the dearth of the dirth on the blush of the brick 

of the viled ville of Barnehulme 

has dust turned to brown; 


these dyed to tartan him, rueroot, dulse, 

bracken, teasel, fuller’s ash, sundew and cress; 


long gunn but not for cotton; 


stood his sharp assault of famine 

but grew girther, girther and girther; 


he has twenty four or so cousins 

germinating in the United States of America 

and a namesake with an initial difference 

in the once kingdom of Poland; 


his first’s a young rose 

and his second’s French-Egyptian 

and his whole means a slump at Christie’s; 


forth of his pierced part came the woman of his dreams, 

blood thicker then water last trade overseas; 


buy-shop of Glinty-look, eorl of Hoed; 


you and I are in him surrented by brwn bldns; 


Elin’s flee polt pelhaps but Hwang Chang evelytime; 


he one was your of high-big-pipey boys 

but fancy him as smoking fags his at time of (p131) life; 


Mount of Mish, Mell of Moy; 


had two cardinal ventures and three capitol sinks; 


has a peep in his pocket-book and a packet-boat in his keep; 


B.V.H., B.L.G., P.P.M., T.D.S., V.B.D., T.C.H., L.O.N.; 


is Breakfates, Lunger, Diener and Souper; 


as the streets were paved with cold he felt his topperairy; 


taught himself skating and learned how to fall; 


distinctly dirty but rather a dear; 


hoveth chieftains evrywehr, with morder; 


Ostman Effendi, Serge Paddishaw; 


baases two mmany, out-priams al’ his parisites; 


first of the fenians, roi des fainéants; 


his Tiara of scones was held unfillable 

till one Liam Fail felled him in Westmunster; 


was struck out of his sittem when he rowed saulely to demask us 

and to our appauling predicament brought as plagues from Buddapest; 


put a match-head on an aspen-stalk and set the living a fire; 


speared the rod and spoiled the lightning; 


married with cakes and repunked with pleasure; 


till he was buried how-happy was he 

and he made the welkins ring with Up Micawber!; 


god at the top of the staircase, carrion on the mat of straw; 


the false hood of a spindler web chokes the cavemouth of his unsightliness 

but the nestlings that liven his leaf-screen sing him a lover of arbuties; 


we strike hands over his bloodied war-sheet 

but we are pledged entirely to his green mantle; 


our friend vike-legal, our swaran foi; 


under the four stones by his streams 

who vanished the wassail-bowl at the joy of shells; 


Mora and Lora had a hill of a high time 

looking down on his confusion 

till firm look in readiness, 

forward spear and the wind-foot of curach 

strewed the lake-mist of Lego 

over the last of his fields; 


we darkened for you, faulterer, 

in the year of mourning 

but we’ll fidhil to the dim-twinklers 

when the streamy morven-light calls up the sunbeam; 


his striped pantaloons, his rather strange walk; 


hereditatis columna erecta, hagion chiton eraphon; 


nods a nap for the nonce but crows cheerio when they get ecunemical; 


is a simultaneous equator of elimbinated integras 

when three upon one is by inspection improper; 


has the most conical hodpiece of confusianist heronim 

and that chu-chuffuous chin-chin of his 

is like a footsey kungoloo around Tai-shanty-land; 


he’s as globeful as a gasometer of lithium and luridity 

and he was thrice ten anular (p132) years 

before he wallowed round Raggiant Circos; 


the cabal-stone at the coping of his cavin is a canine constant 

but only an amirican could apparoxemete 

the a-peu-presiosity of his atlast’s alongement; 


sticklered rights and lefts at Badders-down in his hunt for the boar trwth 

but made his end with the moda-reds that came at him in Camlen-strete; 


a hunnibal in exhaustive conflict, an otho to return; 


burning body to aiger air on melting mountain in wooing wave; 


we go into him sleepy children, we come out of him strucklers for life; 


he divested to save from the Mrs Drownings their rival queens 

while Grimshaw, Bragshaw and Renshaw made off with his storen clothes; 


taxed and rated, licensed and ranted; 


his three-faced stone-head was found on a white-horse hill 

and the print of his costellous feet is seen in the goat’s grass-circle; 


pull the blind, toll the deaf and call dumb, lame and halty; 


Miraculone, Monstrucceleen; 


led the upplaws at the Creation and hissed a snake charmer off her stays; 


hounded become haunter, hunter become fox; 


harrier, marrier, terrier, tav; 

Olaph the Oxman, Thorker the Tourable; 

you feel he is Vespasian yet you think of him as Aurelius; 


whug-amore, trader-tory, socianist, commoniser; 


made a summer assault on our shores and begiddy got his sands full; 


first he shot down Raglan Road and then he tore up Marlborough Place; 


Cromlech-height and Crommal-hill were his far-famed feet-rests 

when our lurch as lout let free into the Lubar heloved; 


mareschalled his wardmotes and delimited the main; 


netted before nibbling, 

can scarce turn a scale 

but, grossed after meals, 

weighs a town in himself; 


Banba prayed for his conversion, Beurla missed that grand old voice; 


a Colossus among cabbages, the Mela-ran-citrone of fruits; 


larger than life, doughtier than death; 


Gran Turco, orege forment; 


lachsem-bulger, leper-lean; 


the sparkle of his genial fancy, 

the depth of his calm sagacity, 

the clearness of his spotless honour, 

the flow of his boundless benevolence; 


our family furbear, our tribal tarnpike; 


quary was he invincibled and cur was he burked; 


partitioned Irskaholm, united Irishmen; 


he took a svig at his own methyr 

but she tested a bit gorky 

and as for the salmon 

he was coming up in him all life long; 


comm, eilerdich hecklebury and sawyer thee, warden; 


(p133) silent as the bee in honey, 

stark as the breath on hauwck, 

Costello, Kinsella, Mahony, Moran, 

though you rope Amrique your home ruler is Dan; 


figure right, he is hoisted by the scurve of his shaggy neck, 

figure left, he is rationed in isobaric patties among the crew; 


one asks was he poisoned, one thinks how much did he leave; 


ex-gardener (Riesengebirger), 

fitted up with planturous existencies 

would make Rose-o-o’greedy (mite’s) little hose; 


taut sheets and scuppers awash 

but the oil silk mack Liebster-pet micks his aquascutum; 


the enjoyment he took in kay women, 

the employment he gave to gee men; 


sponsor to a squad of piercers, ally to a host of rawlies; 


against lightning, explosion, fire, earthquake, 

flood, whirlwind, burglary, third party, 

rot, loss of cash, loss of credit, impact of vehicles; 


can rant as grave as oxtail soup and chat as gay as a porto flippant; 


is unhesitent in his unionism and yet a pigotted nationalist; 


Sylvia-cola is shy of him, Matrosen-hosens nose the joke; 


shows the sinews of peace in his chest-o-wars; 


fie-fe-of-home, nine-hundred and thirtu-nine years of copyhold; 


is aldays open for polemy-polity’s sake 

when he’s not sun-times closed for the love of Janus; 


sucks life’s eleaxir from the petti-pickles of the Jewess 

and ruoulls in sulks if any popeling runs down the Huguenots; 


Boomaport, Walleslee, 

Uber-meer-schall Blowcher and Super-charger, 

Monsieur Ducrow, Mister Mudson, 

master gardiner; 


to one he’s just paunch and judex, to another full of beans and brehons; 


hallucination, cauchman, ectoplasm; 


passed for baabaa blacksheep till he grew white woo woo woolly; 


was drumma-toysed by Mac Milligan’s daughter 

and put to music by one shoe-bard; 


all fitzpatricks in his emirate remember him, 

the boys of wetford hail him babu; 


indanified himself with boro tribute 

and was schenkt publicly to brig-stoll; 


was given the light in drey orchafts and entumuled in three-plexes; 


his likeness is in Terre-cuite and he giveth rest to the rainbowed; 


lebriety, froth-earnity and quality; 


his reverse makes a virtue of necessity 

while his obverse mars a mother by invention; 


beskilk his gunwale and he’s the second imperial, 

untie points, unhook tenters and he’s lath and plaster; 


calls upon Allthing when he fails to appeal to Eachovos; 


basidens, ardree, kongs-emma, rex-regulorum; 


stood into Dee mouth, (p134) then backed broadside on Baula-cleeva; 


either eldorado or ultimate thole; 


a kraal of fou feud fires, a crawl of five pubs; 


laid out lashings of laveries to hunt down his family ancestors 

and then pled double trouble or quick quits to hush the buckers up; 


threw pebblets for luck over one sodden shoulder 

and dragooned peoplades armed to their teeth; 


pept as Gaudio Gambrinus, grim as Potter the Grave; 


ace of arts, deuce of damimonds, trouble of clubs, fear of spates; 


cumbrum, cumbrum, twin-icey-nurseys fore a drum 

but tre to uno tips the scale; 


reeled the title-roll opposite a brace of girdles in Silver on the Screen 

but was sequenced from the set as Crookback 

by the even more titulars, Rick, Dave and Barry; 


he can get on as early as the twenty-second of Mars 

but occasionally he doesn’t come off-before Virginti-quinque Germinal; 


his Indian name is Hapa-poosies-objibway 

and his number in arith-mosophy is the stars of the plough; 


took weapon in the province of the pike and let fling his line on Eelwick; 


moves in vicous cicles yet remews the same; 


the drain rats bless his offals while the park birds curse his floodlights; 


Portobello, Equadocta, Therecocta, Percorello; 


he pours into the soft-clad shell-born the hard cash earned in Watling Street; 


his birth proved accidental shows his death its grave mistake; 


brought us giant ivy from the land of younkers 

and bewitthered Apostolopolos with the gale of his gall; 


while satisfied that soft youthful bright matchless girls 

should bosom into fine silk-clad joyous blooming young women 

is not so pleased that heavy swear-some strong-smelling irregular-shaped men 

should blottout active handsome well-formed frank-eyed boys; 


herald hairy-fair, all-oaf the wheat; 


husband your aunt and endow your nepos; 


hearken but hush it, screen him and see; 


time is, an archbishopric, time was, a tradesmen’s entrance; 


beckburn brooked with wath, scale scarred by scow; 


his rainfall is a couple of knee-highs 

while his meanst grass temperature marked three in the shade; 


is the melting-point of snow and the bubbling-place of alcohol; 


has a tussle with the trulls and then does himself justice; 


hinted at in the eschatological chapters of Humphrey’s Justesse of the Jaypees 

and hunted for by Theban recensors 

who sniff there’s something behind the Bug of the Deaf; 


thc king was (p135) in his corner-wall melking mark so murry, 

the queen was steep in armbour feeling fain and furry, 

the mayds was midst the hawthorns shoeing up their hose, 

out pimps the back guards (pomp!) and pump gun they goes; 


to all his fore-tellers he reared a stone and for all his comethers he planted a tree; 


forty acres, sixty miles, white stripe, red stripe, washes his fleet in annacr-watter; 


whou missed a porter so whot shall he do 

for he wanted to sit for Pimp-loco 

but they’ve caught him to stand for Sue?; 


Dutchlord, Dutchlord, overawes us; 


Head-mound, king and martyr, dunstung in the Yeast, 

Pitre-le-Pore-in Petrin, Barth-the-Grete-by-the-Exchange; 


he hestens towards dames troth and wedding hand 

like the prince of Orange and Nassau 

while he has trinity left behind him 

like Bowl-beggar Bill-the-Bustonly; 


brow of a hazel-wood, pool in the dark; 


changes blowicks into bullocks and a well of Artesia into a bird of Arabia; 


the handwriting on his facewall, 

the crypto-concho-idsi-phono-stomata in his exprussians; 


his birth-spot lies beyond the herospont and his burial-plot in the pleasant little field; 


is the yldist kiosk on the pleninsula and the unguest hostel in Saint Scholarland; 


walked many hundreds and many score miles of streets 

and lit thousands in one night-lights in hectares of windows; 


his great wide cloak lies on fifteen acres 

and his little white horse decks by dozens our doors; 


O sorrow the sail and woe the rudder that were set for Mairie Quai!; 


his suns the huns, his dartars the tartars, are plenty here today; 


who repulsed from his burst the bombolts of Ostenton 

and falchioned each flash downs-a-duck in the deep; 


apersonal problem, a locative enigma; 


upright one, vehicule of arcanisation in the field, 

lying chap, flood-supplier of celi-culation through ebblanes; 


a part of the whole as a port for a whale; 


Dear Hewitt Castello, Equerry, were daylighted with our outing 

and are looking backwards to unearly summers, from Rhoda Dundrums; 


is above the seed-fruit level and outside the legum-iniferous zone; 


when older links lock older hearts then he’ll resemble she; 


can be built with glue and clippings, scrawled or voided on a buttress; 


the night express sings his story, the song of sparrow-notes on his stave of wires; 


he crawls with lice, he swarms with saggarts; 


is as quiet as a (p136) mursque but can be as noisy as a sonogog; 


was Dilmun when his date was palmy and Mudlin when his nut was cracked; 


suck up the sease, lep laud at ease, one lip on his lap and one cushlin his crease; 


his porter has a mighty grasp and his baxters the boon of broadwhite; 


as far as wind dries and rain eats and sun turns and water bounds 

he is exalted and depressed, assembled and asundered; 


go away, we are deluded, come back, we are disghosted; 


bored the Ostrov, leapt the Inferus, swam the Mabbul and flure the Moyle; 


like fat, like fatlike tallow, of greasefulness, yea of dripping greasefulness; 


did not say to the old, old, did not say to the scorbutic, scorbutic; 


he has founded a house, Uru, 

a house he has founded to which he has assigned its fate; 


bears a raaven geulant on a fjeld duiv; 


ruz the halo offhis varlet when he appeared to his shecook 

as Haycock, Emmet, Boaro, Toaro, Osterich, Mangy and Skunk; 


pressed the beer of aled age out of the nettles of rashness; 


put a roof on the lodge for Hymn and a coq in his pot pro homo; 


was dapifer then pancir-censor then hortifex magnus; 


the topes that tippled on him, the types that toppled off him; 


still starts our hares yet gates our goat; 


pocket-book packet-boat, gapman gunrun; 


the light of other days, dire dreary darkness; 


our awful dad, Timour of Tortur; 


puzzling, startling, shocking, nay, perturbing; 


went puffing from king’s brugh to new customs, 

doffing the gibbous off him to every breach of all size; 


with Pa’s new heft and Papa’s new helve he’s Papapa’s old cutlass Papa-papa left us; 


when young-headed old-shouldered and middl-ish-neck aged about; 


caller herring every-daily, turgid tarpon overnight; 


see Loryon the comaleon that changed endocrine history 

by loeven his loaf with forty bannucks; 


she drove him dafe till he driv her blind up; 


the pigeons doves be perchin all over him one day on Baslesbridge 

and the ravens duv be pitchin their dark nets after him 

the next night 

behind Koenigstein’s Arbour; 


tronf of the rep, comf of the priv, prosp of the pub; 


his headwood it’s ideal if his feet are bally clay; 


he crashed in the hollow of the park, trees down, 

as he soared in the vaguum of the phoenix, stones up; 


looks like a moultain boultter and sounds like a rude word; 


the mountain view, some lumin pale (p137) round a lamp of succar in boinyn water; 


three shots a puddy at up blup saddle; 


made up to Miss MacCormack Ni Lacarthy 

who made off with Darly Dermod, swank and swarthy; 


once diamond cut garnet now dammat cuts groany; 


you might find him at the Florence but watch our for him in Wynn’s Hotel; 


theer’s his bow and wheer’s his leaker 

and heer lays his bequiet hearse, deep; 


Swed Albiony, likeliest villain of the place; 


Hennery Canterel—Cockran, eggotisters, limitated; 


we take our tays and frees our fleas round sadurn’s mounted foot; 


built the Lund’s kirk and destroyed the church’s land; 


who guesse his title grabs his deeds; 


fletch and prities, fash and chaps; 


artful Juke of Wilysly; 


Hugglebelly’s Funniral; 


Kukkuk Kallikak; 


heard in camera and excruciated; 


boon when with benches billeted, bann if buck-shot-back-shattered; 


heaven-gendered, chaos-foedted, earthborn; 


his father presumptively ploughed it deep on overtime 

and his mother as all evince must have travailled her fair share; 


a footprinse on the Megacene, hetman unwhorsed by Searing-sand; 


honorary captain of the extemporised fire brigade, reported to be friendly with the police; 


the door is still open; 


the old stock collar is coming back; 


not forgetting the time you laughed at Elder Charterhouse’s duck-white pants 

and the way you said the whole township can see his hairy legs; 


by stealth of a kersse her aulburn-tress abaft his nape she hung; 


when his kettle became a hearth-sculdus our thorstyites set their lymphy-amphyre; 


his yearletter concocted by masterhands of assays, 

his hallmark imposed by the standard of wrought plate; 


a pair of pectorals and a triple-screen to get a wind up; 


lights his pipe with a rosin tree and hires a towhorse to haul his shoes; 


cures slavey’s scurvy, breaks barons boils; 


called to sell polosh and was found later in a bedroom; 


has his seat of justice, his house of mercy, his com o’copious and his stacks a’rye; 


prospector, he had a rooksacht, retrospector, he holds the holpenstake; 


won the freedom of new yoke for the minds of jugoslaves; 


acts active, peddles in passivism and is a gorgon of self-ridge-ousness; 


pours a laughsworth of his ill-formation over a larmsworth of salt; 


half heard the single maiden speech La Belle spun to her Grand Mount 

and wholed a lifetime (p138) by his ain fireside, 

wondering was it hebrew set to himmel-tones 

or the quick-silver-song of qwaternions; 


his troubles may be over but his doubles have still to come; 


the lobster pot that crabbed our keel, the garden pet that spoiled our squeezed peas; 


he stands in a lovely park, sea is not far, 

importunate towns of X, Y and Z are easily over reached; 


is an excrescence to civilised humanity and but a wart on Europe; 


wanamade sing-signs to sound-sense 

an yit he wanna git all his flesch nuemaid motts truly prural and plusible; 


has excisively large rings and is uncustomarily perfumed; 


lusteth ath he listeth the cleah whithpeh of a themise; 


is a prince of the fingallian in a hiberniad of hoolies; 


has a hodge to wherry him and a frenchy to curry him 

and a brabanson for his beeter and a fritz at his switch; 


was waylaid of a parker and beschotten by a buckeley; 


kicks lintils when he’s cuppy and casts Jacob’s arro-roots, 

dime after dime, to poor waif-strays on the perish; 


reads the charms of H. C. Endersen all the weaks of his evenin 

and the crimes of Ivaun the Taurrible every strongday morn; 


soaps you soft to your face and slaps himself when he’s badend; 


owns the bulgiest bung-barrel that ever was tip-tapped 

in the privace of the Mullingar Inn; 


was bom with a nuasilver tongue in his mouth 

and went round the coast of Iron with his lift hand to the scene; 


raised but two fingers and yet smelt it would day; 


for whom it is easier to found a see in Ebblannah 

than for I or you to find a dubbel-tye in Dampster-damp; 


to live with whom is a life-mayor and to know whom a liberal education; 


was dipped in Hoily Olives and chrysmed in Scent Otooles; 


hears cricket on the earth but annoys the life out of predikants; 


still turns the durc’s ear of Darius to the now thoroughly infurioted one of God; 


made Man with juts that jerk and minted money mong maney; 


likes a six acup pudding when he’s come whome sweetwhome; 


has come through all the eras of livs-adventure from moonshine 

and shampaying down to clouts and pottled porter; 


woollem the farsed, hahn-reich the althe, 

charge the sackend, writchad the thord; 


if a mandrake shricked to convultures at last surviving his birth 

the weib-duck will wail bitternly over the rotter’s resurrection; 


loses weight in the moon night but gird girder by the sundawn; 


with one touch (p139) of nature set a veiled world agrin 

and went within a sheet of tissue-paper of the option of three gaols; 


who could see at one blick a saumon taken with a lance, 

hunters pursuing a doe, 

a swallowship in full sail, 

a whyterobe lifting a host; 


faced flappery like old King Cnut and turned his back like Cincinnatus; 


is a farfar and morefar and a hoar father Naked-bucker in villas old as new; 


squats aquart and cracks aquaint when it’s flaggin in town and on haven; 


blows whiskery around his summit but stehts stout upon his footles; 


stutters fore he falls and goes mad entirely when he’s waked; 


is Timb to the pearly mom and Tomb to the mourning night; 


and an he had the best bun-baked bricks in bould Babylon 

for his pitching plays he’d be lost for the want of his wan wubblin wall?


Answer: Finn MacCool!

———————————————————————————

2. 

Does your mutter know your mike?


Answer: 

When I tum meoptics, from suchurban prospects, 

’tis my filial’s bosom, 

doth behold with pride, 

that pontificator, 

and circum-vallator, 

with his dam night garrulous, 

slipt by his side. 


Ann alive, 

the lisp of her, 

’twould grig mountains whisper her, 

and the bergs of Iceland melt in waves of fire, 

and her spoon-me-spondees, 

and her dirckle-me-ondenees, 

make the Rageous Ossean, 

kneel and quaff a lyre! 


If Dann’s dane, Ann’s dirty, 

if he’s plane she’s purty, 

if he’s fane, she’s flirty, 

with her auburnt streams, 

and her coy cajoleries, 

and her dabblin drolleries, 

for to rouse his rudderup, 

or to drench his dreams. 


If hot Hammurabi, 

or cowld Clesiastes, 

could espy her pranklings, 

they’d burst bounds agin, 

and renounce their ruings, 

and denounce their doings, 

for river and iver, 

and a night. 

Amin!

———————————————————————————

3. 


Which title is the true-to-type motto-in-lieu 

for that Tick for Teac thatchment painted witt wheth one darkness, 

where asnake is under clover and birds aprowl are in the rookeries 

and a magda went to monkis-house 

and a river-paard was spotted, 

which is not Whichcroft Whorort 

not Ousterholm Dreyschluss 

not Haraldsby, grocer, 

not Vatandcan, vintner, 

not Houseboat and Hive 

not Knox-atta-Belle 

not O’Faynix Coal-prince 

not Wohn Squarr Roomy-eck 

not Ebblawn Downes 

not Le Decer (p140) Le Mieux 

not Benjamin’s Lea 

not Tholomew’s Whaddingtun 

gnot Antwarp gnat Musca 

not Corry’s 

not Weir’s 

not the Arch 

not The Smug 

not The Dotch House 

not The Uval 

nothing Grand nothing Splendid (Grahot or Spletel) 

nayther Erat Est Erit noor Non michi sed luciphro?


Answer: Thine obesity, O civilian, hits the felicitude of our orb!

—————————————————————————————

4. 


What Irish capitol city (a dea o dea!) of two syllables and six letters, 

with a deltic origin and a ruinous end, (ah dust oh dust!) can boost of having 

a) the most extensive public park in the world, 

b) the most expensive brewing industry in the world, 

c) the most expansive peopling thoroughfare in the world, 

d) the most phillo-hippuc theo-bibbous paùpulation in the world: 

and harmonise your a-be-ce-deed responses?


Answer: 

a) Delfas. 

And when ye’ll hear the gould hommers of my heart, 

my floxy loss, bing-banging again the ribs of yer resistance 

and the tender-bolts of my rivets working to your destraction 

ye’ll be sheverin wi’ all yer dinful sobs 

when we’ll go riding acope-acurly, 

you with yer orange garland 

and me with my conny cordial, 

down the grease-ways of rollicking 

into the waters of wetted life. 


b) Dorhqk. 

And sure where can you have such good old chimes anywhere, 

and leave you, as on the Mash 

and how’tis I would be engaging you with my plovery soft accents 

and descanting upover the scene beunder me of your loose vines 

in their hair-a-fall with them two loving loofs 

braceleting the slims of your ankles 

and your mouth’s flower rose 

and sinking ofter the soapstone of silvry speech. 


c) Nublid. 

Isha, why wouldn’t we be happy, avourneen, 

on the mills’money he’ll soon be leaving you 

as soon as I’ve my own owned brook-lined Georgian mansion’s lawn 

to recruit upon by Doctor Cheek’s special orders 

and my copper’s panful of soybeans 

and Irish in my east hand and a James’s Gate in my west, 

after all the errears and errori-boose of combarative embottled history, 

and your goodself churning over the newleaved butter 

(more power to you), 

the choicest and the cheapest from Atlanta to Oconee, 

while I’ll be drowsing in the gaarden. 


d) Dalway. 

I hooked (p141) my thorough-going trotty the first down Spanish Place, 

Mayo I make, Tuam I take, Sligo’s sleek but Galway’s grace. 

Holy eel and Sainted Salmon, 

chucking chub and ducking dace, 

Rodiron’s not your aequal! 

says she, leppin half the lane. 


abcd) A bell a bell on Shall-doll Steep-bell, 

ond be’ll go massplon pristmoss speople, 

Shand praise gon ness our fayst moan neople, 

our prame Shandeepen, 

pay name muy feepence, 

moy nay non Aequallllllll!

———————————————————————————-

5. 


Whad slags of a loughladd would retten smutty-flesks, 

emptout old mans, 

melk vitious geit, 

scareoff jack-in-jills fra tiddle anding, 

smooth-pick waste papish pastures, 

insides man outsiders angell, 

sprink dirted water around village, 

newses, tobaggon and sweeds, 

plain general kept, 

louden on the kirkpeal, 

foot-treats given to malafides, 

outshriek hyelp hyelf nor his hair efter buggelawrs, 

might underhold three barnets, 

putzpolish crotty bottes, 

night-coover all fireglims, 

serve’s time till baass, 

grind-stone his kniveses, 

fullest boarded, 

lewd man of the method of godliness, 

perchance he nieows and thans sits in the spoor-waggen, 

X.W.C.A. on Z.W.C.U., 

Doorsteps, Limited, 

or Bay-windaws Bros swobber preferred. 


Walther Clausetter’s and Sons 

with the H. E. Chimneys’ Company to not skreve, 

will, on advices, be bacon or stable hand, 

must begripe full-standingly irers’ langurge, 

jub-lander or north-quain bigger prefurred, 

all duties, kine rights, family fewd, 

outings fived, may get earnst, no get combitsch, 

profusional drinklords to please obstain, 

he is fatherlow soundigged in-mood-mined pershoon 

but ale-connerman, 

nay, that must he isn’t?


Answer: Pore ole Joe!

——————————————————————————

6. 


What means the saloon slogan Summon In The Housesweep Dinah?


Answer: Tok. 

Galory bit of the sales of Cloth nowand 

I have to beeswax the bringing in all the claub of the porks to us 

how I thawght I knew his stain on the flower 

if me ask and can could speak 

and he called by me midden name 

Tik. 


I am your honey honey-sugger phwht-phwht tha Bay 

and who bruk the dandleass 

and who seen the black-cullen jam for Tomorrha’s big pick-neck 

I hope it’ll pour prais the Climate of all Ireland 

I heard the (p142) grackles and I skimming the crock on all your sangwidges 

fippence per leg per drake.

Tuk. 


And who eight the last of the goose-bellies 

that was mowlding from measlest years 

and who leff that there 

and who put that here 

and who let the kilkenny stale the chump. 

Tek. 


And who-was-it you-was-it propped the pot in the yard 

and what-in-the name-of-sen luke-are-you rubbin-the side-of-the flure-of-the lobby-with. 

Shite! will you have a plateful? 

Tak.

————————————————————————

7. 


Who are those component partners of our societate, 

the door-boy, the cleaner, the sojer, the crook, 

the squeezer, the lounger, the curman, the tourabout, 

the muss-room-sniffer, the bleak-a-blue tramp, 

the fun-powther-plother, the christy-mans-boxer, 

from their prés salés and Donny-brook prater 

and Roebuck’s campos and the Ager Arountown 

and Crumglen’s grassy but Kimmage’s champ 

and Ashtown fields and Cabra fields 

and Finglas fields and Santry fields 

and the feels of Raheny 

and their fails and Baldoygle to them 

who are late-comers all the year’s round by anticipation, 

are the porters of the passions in virtue of retro-ratiocination, 

and, contributting their conflingent controversies of differentiation, 

unify their voxes in a vote of vaticination, 

who crunch the crusts of comfort due to depredation, 

drain the mead for misery to incur intoxication, 

condone every evil by practical justification 

and condam any good to its own gratification, 

who are ruled, roped, duped and driven by those numen daimons, 

the fee-keepers at their laws, 

nightly consternation, 

fortnightly fornication, 

monthly miserecordation 

and omni-annual recreation, 

doyles when they deliberate but sullivans when they are swordsed, 

Matey, Teddy, Simon, Jorn, Pedher, Andy, Barty, 

Philly, Jamesy Mor and Tom, Matt and Jakes Mac Carty?


Answer: The Morphios!

—————————————————————————————————-

8. 

And how war yore maggies?


Answer: They war loving, they love laughing, 

they laugh weeping, they weep smelling, 

they smell smiling, they smile hating, 

they hate thinking, they think feeling, 

they feel tempting, they tempt daring, 

they dare waiting, they wait taking, 

they take thanking, they thank seeking, 

as born for lorn in lore of love to live and wive 

by wile and rile by rule of ruse ’reathed rose 

and (p143) hose hol’d home, 

yeth cometh elope year, 

coach and four, 

Sweet Peck-at-my-Heart picks one man more.

———————————————————————-

9. 


Now, to be on anew 

and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, 

if a human being duly fatigued by his dayety in the sooty, 

having plenxty off time on his gouty hands 

and vacants of space at his sleepish feet 

and as hapless behind the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk, 

were at this auctual futule preteriting unstant, 

in the states of suspensive exanimation, 

accorded, throughout the eye of a noodle, 

with an earsighted view of old hope-in-haven 

with all the ingredient and egregiunt whights and ways 

to which in the curse of his persistence the course of his tory 

will had been having recourses, 

the reverberration of knot-cracking awes, 

the reconjungation of node-binding ayes, 

the redisso-lusingness of mind-mouldered ease 

and the thereby hang of the Hoel of it, 

could such a none, 

whiles even led come-silencers to come-lie-with-hers 

and till intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spot lucan’s dawn, 

byhold at ones what is main and why tis twain, 

how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, 

the sap rising, the foles falling, 

the nimb now nihilant round the girly-head so becoming, 

the wrestless in the womb, 

all the rivals to all-sea, 

shake-again, 

O disaster! 

shake-alose, 

Ah how starring! 

but Heng’s got a bit of Horsa’s nose 

and Jeff’s got the signs of Ham round his mouth 

and the beau that spun beautiful pales as it palls, 

what rose-rude and oragious grows gelb and greem, 

blue out the ind of it! 


Violet’s dyed! 

then what would that far-gazer seem to seemself to seem seeming of, 

dimm it all?


Answer: A collide-orscape!

—————————————————————————


10. 


What bitter’s love but yurning, 

what’ sour lovemutch but a bref burning 

till shee that drawes dothe smoake retourne?


Answer: I know, pepette, of course, dear, but listen, precious! 

Thanks, pette, those are lovely, pitounette, delicious! 

But mind the wind, sweet! 

What exquisite hands you have, you angiol, 

if you didn’t gnaw your nails, 

isn’t it a wonder you’re not achamed of me, 

you pig, you perfect little pigaleen! 

I’ll nudge you in a minute! 

I bet you use her best Perisian smear off her vanity table (p144)

to make them look so rose-top glow-stop no-stop. 

I know her. 

Slight me, would she? 

For every got I care! 

Three creamings a day, 

the first during her shower and wipe off with tissue. 

Then after cleanup and of course before retiring. 


Beme shawl, when I think of that espos of a Clancarbry, 

the food-brawler, 

of the sociationist party with hiss black-leaded chest, 

hello, Prendregast! 

that you, Inn-kipper, and all his fourteen other full-back maulers 

or hurling stars or whatever the dagos they are, 

baiting at my Lord Ornery’s, 

just becups they won the egg and spoon there 

so ovally provencial at Balldole. 


My Eilish assent he seed makes his admiracion. 

He is seeking an opening and means to be first with me as his belle alliance. 

Andoo musnoo play zeloso! 

Soso do todas. 

Such is Spanish. 

Stoop alittle closer, fealse! 

Delight-some simply! 

Like Jolio and Romeune. 

I haven’t fell so turkish for ages and ages! 

Mine’s me of squisious, the chocolate with a soul. 

Extra-ordinary! 

Why, what are they all, the mucky lot of them only? 

Sht! I wouldn’t pay three hairpins for them. 

Peppt! That’s rights, hold it steady! 

Leg me pull. 

Pu! Come big to Iran. 

Poo! What are you nudging for? 

No, I just thought you were. 


Listen, loviest! 

Of course it was too kind of you, miser, 

to remember my sighs in shockings, 

my often expressed wish when you were wandering about my trousseaurs 

and before I forget it don’t forget, 

in your extensions to my personality, 

when knotting my remembrancetie, 

shoe-week will be trotting back 

with red heels at the end of the moon 

but look what the fool bought 

cabbage head 

and, as I shall answer to gracious heaven, 

I’ll always in always remind of snappy new girters, 

me being always the one for charms 

with my very best in proud and gloving 

even if he was to be vermillion miles my youth to live on, 

the rubberend Mr Polkingtone, 

the quonian flesh-monger 

who Mother Browne solicited me for unlawful converse with, 

with her mug of October (a pots on it!), 

creaking around on his old shanks-axle like a crosty old cornquake. 


Airman, water-wag, terrier, blazer! 

I’m fine, thanks ever! 

Ha! O mind you poo tickly. 

Sall I puhim in momou. 

Mummum. Funny spot to have a fingey! 

I’m terribly sorry, I swear to you I am! 


May you never see me in my (145) birthday pelts seenso tutu 

and that her blanches mainges may rot leprous off her 

whatever winking maggis 

I’ll bet by your cut you go fleurting after 

with all the glass on her 

and the jumps in her stomewhere! 


Haha! I suspected she was! 

Sink her! May they fire her for a barren ewe! 

So she says: Tay for thee? 

Well, I saith: Angst so mush: 

and desired she might not take it amiss if I esteemed her but an odd. 

If I did ate tough-turf I’m not a mishy-missy. 

Of course I know, pettest, you’re so learningful and considerate in yourself, 

so friend of vegetables, you long cold cat you! 

Please by acquiester to meek my acquointance! 

Codling, snakelet, iciclist! 

My diaper has more life to it! 


Who drowned you in drears, man, or are you pillale with ink? 

Did a weep get past the gates of your pride? 

My tread on the clover, sweetness? 

Yes, the buttercups told me, hug me, damn it all, 

and I’ll kiss you back to life, my peachest. 

I mean to make you suffer, meddlar, 

and I don’t care this fig for contempt of courting. 


That I chid you, sweet sir? 

You know I’m tender by my eye. 

Can’t you read by dazzling ones through me true? 

Bite my laughters, drink my tears. 

Pore into me, volumes, spell me stark and spill me swooning. 


I just don’t care what my thwarters think. 

Transname me loveliness, now and here me for all times! 

I’d risk a policeman passing by, 

Magrath or even that beggar of a boots at the Post. 

The flame? 

O, pardone! 

That was what? 

Ah, did you speak, stuff-stuff? 

More poestries from Chick-speer’s with glee-choreal music 

or a jaculation from the garden of the soul. 

Of I be leib in the immoralities? 

O, you mean the strangle for love and the so-wive-all of the prettiest? 

Yep, we open hap coseries in the home. 

And once upon a week I improve on myself 

I’m so keen on that New Free Woman with novel inside. 

I’m always as tickled as can be 

over Man in a Surplus by the Lady who Pays the Rates. 


But I’m as pie as is possible. 

Let’s root out Brimstoker and give him the thrall of our lives. 

It’s Dracula’s nightout. 

For creepsake don’t make a flush! 

Draw the shades, curfe you, and I’ll beat any sonnamonk to love. 


Holy bug, how my highness would jump 

to make you flame your halve a bannan in two 

when I’d run my burning torchlight through 

(to adore me there and then cease to be? 

Whatever for, blossoms?) 

Your hair-me-jig if you had one. 

If I am laughing with you? 

No, lovingest, I’m not so dying to take my rise out of you, adored. 

Not in the very least. 

True as God made my Mamaw hip-length modesty coat-mawther! 

It’s only because the rison is I’m only any girl, 

you lovely fellow of my dreams, 

and because old somebooby is not a roundabout, 

my trysting of the tulipies, 

like that puff pape bucking Daveran assoiling us behinds. 

What a nerve! 

He thinks that’s what the vesprey’s for. 


How vain’s that hope in cleric’s heart 

Who still pursues th’adult’ rous art, 

Cocksure that rusty gown of his 

Will make fair Sue forget his phiz! 


Tame Schwipps. 

Blessed Marguerite bosses, 

I hope they threw away the mould 

or else we’ll have Ball-shossers and Sour-dam-applers 

with their medical assassiations all over the place. 


But hold hard till I’ve got my latchkey vote 

and I’ll teach him when to wear what woman callours. 

On account of the gloss of the gleison Hasa-boo-braw-bees isabeau-bel. 


And because, you pluckless lankaloot, 

I hate the very thought of the thought of you 

and because, dearling, of course, adorest, 

I was always meant for an engindear from the French college, 

to be musband, nomme d’engien, 

when we do and contract with encho tencho solver 

when you are married to reading and writing 

which please-business now won’t be long 

for he’s so loopy on me and I’m so leapy 

like since the day he carried me from the boat, 

my saviored of eroes, 

to the beach 

and I left on his shoulder one fair hair 

to guide hand and mind to its softness. 


Ever so sorry! 

I beg your pardon, 

I was listening to every treasuried word I said fell from my dear mot’s tongue 

otherwise how could I see what you were thinking of our granny? 


Only I wondered if I threw out my shaving water. 

Anyway, here’s my arm, pullet-neck. 

Gracefully yours. 

Move your mouth towards minth, more, preciousest, more on more! 

To please me, treasure. 

Don’t be a, I’m not going to! 

Sh! nothing! 

A cricri somewhere! 

Buybuy! I’m fly! 

Hear, pippy, under the limes. 

You know bigtree are all against gravstone. 

They hiss-histenency. 

Garnd ond mand! 

So chip chirp chirrup, cigolo, for the lug of Migo! 


The little passdoor, I go you before, so, 

and you’re (p147) at my apron stage. 

Shy is him, dovey? 

Musforget there’s an audience. 

I have been lost, angel. 

Cuddle, ye divil ye! 

It’s our toot-a-toot. 

Hearhere! Sensation! 

Let them, their whole four courtships! 

Let them, Bigbawl and his boosers’ eleven makes twelve territorials. 

The Old Sot’s Hole that wants wide streets 

to commission their noisense in, 

at the Mitchells v. Nicholls. 


Aves Selvae Acquae Valles! 

And my waiting twenty classbirds, sitting on their stiles! 

Let me finger their eurhythmytic. 

And you’ll see if I’m selfthought. 

They’re all of them out to please. 

Wait! In the name of. 

And all the holly. 

And some the mistle and it Saint Yves. 

Hoost! Ahem! 


There’s Ada, Bett, Celia, Delia, 

Ena, Fretta, Gilda, Hilda, Ita, Jess, Katty, Lou, 

(they make me cough as sure as I read them) 

Mina, Nippa, Opsy, Poll, Queeniee, 

Ruth, Saucy, Trix, Una, Vela, 

Wanda, Xenia, Yva, Zulma, Phoebe, Thelma. 

And Mee! 


The reformatory boys is goaling in for the church 

so we’ve all come-feast like the group-suppers 

and caught lip-solution from Anty Pravidance 

under penancies for myrtle sins. 


When their bride was married all my belles began ti ting. 

A ring a ring a rosaring! 

Then everyone will hear of it. 

Whoses wishes is the farther to my thoughts. 

But I’ll plant them a poser for their noman-clatter. 

When they’re out with the daynurse doing Chaperon Mall. 

Bright pigeons all over the whirrld 

will fly with my mistletoe message 

round their love-ribboned necks 

and d crumb of my cake for each chasta dieva. 

We keeps all and sundry papers. 

In th’ amourlight, O my darling! 

No, I swear to you 

by Fibsburrow churchdome and Sainte Andrée’s Undershift, 

by all I hold secret from my world and in my underworld of nighties and naughties 

and all the other wonderwearlds! 


Close your, notmust look! 

Now open, pet, your lips, pepette, 

like I used my sweet parted lipsabuss 

with Dan Holohan of facetious memory 

taught me after the flannel dance, 

with the proof of love, 

up Smock Alley the first night he smelled pouder 

and I coloured beneath my fan, pipetta mia, 

when you learned me the linguo to melt. 


Whowham would have ears like ours, the blackhaired! 

Do you like that, silenzioso? 

Are you enjoying, this same little me, my life, my love? 

Why do you like my (p148) whisping? 

Is it not divinely deluscious? 

But in’t it bafforyou? 

Misi misi! Tell me till my thrillme comes! 

I will not break the seal. 

I am enjoying it still, I swear I am! 


Why do you prefer its in these dark nets, 

if why may ask, my sweetykins? 

Sh sh! Longears is flying. 

No, sweetissest, why would that ennoy me? 

But don’t! You want to be slap well slapped for that. 

Your delighted lips, love, be careful! 

Mind my duvetyne dress above all! 

It’s golded silvy, the newest sextones with princess effect. 

For Rutland blue’s got out of passion. 

So, so, my precious! 

O, I can see the cost, chare! 

Don’t tell me! 

Why, the boy in sheeps’ lane knows that. 

If I sell whose, dears? 

Was I sold here’ tears? 

You mean those conversation lozenges? 

How awful! 

The bold shame of me! 

I wouldn’t, chickens, not for all the juliettes in the twinkly way! 

I could snap them when I see them winking at me in bed. 

I didn’t did so, my intended, or was going to or thinking of. 

Shshsh! Don’t start like that, you wretch! 


I thought ye knew all and more, ye aucthor, 

to explique to ones the significat of their exsystems 

with your nieu nivulon lead. 

It’s only another queer fish or other 

in Brinbrou’s damned old trouchorous river again, 

Gothe-wish-egoths bless us and spare her! 

And gibos rest from the bosso! 

Excuse me for swearing, love, 

I swear to the sorrasims on their trons of Uian 

I didn’t mean to by this alpin armlet! 


Did you really never in all our cantalang lives speak clothse to a girl’s before? 

No! Not even to the charmer-maid? 

How marfellows! 

Of course I believe you, my own dear doting liest, when you tell me. 

As I’d live to, O, I’d love to! 

Liss, liss! I muss whiss! 

Never that ever or I can remember dear-streaming faces, 

you may go through me! 

Never in all my whole white life of my matchless and pair. 

Or ever for bitter be the frucht of this hour! 

With my whiteness I thee woo and bind my silk breasths I thee bound! 

Always, Amory, amor andmore! 

Till always, thou lovest! 

Shshshsh! 

So long as the lucksmith. 

Laughs!

———————————————————————-


11. 

If you met on the binge a poor acheseyeld from Ailing, 

when the tune of his tremble shook shimmy on shin,
while his countrary raged in the weak of his wailing, 

like a rugilant pugilant Lyon O’Lynn; 

if he maundered in misliness, 

plaining his (p149) plight 

or, played fox and lice, 

pricking and dropping hips teeth, 

or wringing his handcuffs for peace, 

the blind blighter, 

praying Dieuf and Domb Nostrums foh thomethinks to eath; 

if he weapt while he leapt and guffalled quith a quhimper, 

made cold blood a blue mundy and no bones without flech, 

taking kiss, kake or kick with a suck, sigh or simper, 

a diffle to larn and a dibble to lech; 

if the fain shinner pegged you to shave his immartial, 

wee skillmustered shoul with his ooh, hoodoodoo! 

broking wind that to wiles, woemaid sin he was partial, 

we don’t think, Jones, we’d care to this evening, 

would you?

—————————————————-

Answer: No, blank ye! 

So you think I have impulsivism? 

Did they tell you I am one of the fortysixths? 

And I suppose you heard I had a wag on my ears? 

And I suppose they told you too that my roll of life is not natural? 

But before proceeding to conclusively confute this begging question 

it would be far fitter for you, if you dare! 

to hasitate to consult with and consequentially attempt at 

my disposale of the same dime-cash problem elsewhere 

naturalistically of course, 

from the blinkpoint of so eminent a spatialist. 


From it you will here notice, Schott, 

upon my for the first remarking you 

that the sophology of Bitchson 

while driven as under by a purely dime-dime urge 

is not without his cashcash characktericksticks, 

borrowed for its nonce ends from the fiery goodmother Miss Fortune 

(who the lost time we had the pleasure 

we have had our little recherché brush with, what, Schott?) 

and as I further could have told you 

as brisk as your D.B.C. behaviouristically pailleté 

with a coat of homoid icing 

which is in reality only a done by chance ridiculisation 

of the whoo-whoo and where’s hairs theorics of Winestain. 


To put it all the more plumbsily. 

The speechform is a mere sorrogate. 

Whilst the quality and tality 

(I shall explex what you ought to mean by this 

with its proper when and where and why and how 

in the subsequent sentence) 

are alternativ-o-mentally harrogate and arrogate, 

as the gates may be.

————————————————————

Talis is a word often abused by many passims 

(I am working out a quantum theory about it 

for it is really most tantumising state of affairs). 

A pessim may frequent you to say: 

Have you been (p150) seeing much of Talis and Talis those times? 

optimately meaning: 

Will you put up at hree of irish? 

Or a ladyeater may perhaps have casualised as you temptoed her à la sourdine: 

Of your plates? 

Is Talis de Talis, the sword-swallower, 

who is on at the Craterium 

the same Talis von Talis, the pen-scrusher, 

no funk you! 

who runs his duly mile? 

Or this is a perhaps cleaner example. 

At a recent post-vortex piece infustigation 

of a determinised case of chronic spinosis 

an extension lecturer on The Ague 

who out of matter of form was trying his seesers, 

Dr’s Het Ubeleeft, borrowed the question: 

Why’s which Suchman’s talis qualis? 

to whom, as a fatter of macht, 

Dr Gedankje of Stoutgirth, 

who was wiping his whistle, toarsely retoarted: 

While thou beast’ one zoom of a whorl! 

(Talis and Talis originally mean the same thing, hit it’s: Qualis.)

—————————————————————————

Professor Loewy-Brueller 

(though as I shall promptly prove 

his whole account of the Sennacherib 

as distinct from the Shalmanesir sanitational reforms 

and of the Mr Skekels and Dr Hydes problem 

in the same connection 

differs toto coelo 

from the fruit of my own investigations

—though the reason I went to Jericho must remain for certain reasons a political secret

—especially as I shall shortly be wanted in Cavantry, 

I congratulate myself, 

for the same and other reasons

—as being again hopelessly vitiated 

by what I have now resolved to call the dime and cash diamond fallacy) 

in his talked off confession 

which recently met with such a leonine uproar 

on its escape after its confinement 

Why am I not born like a Gentileman 

and why am I now so speakable about my own eatables 

(Feigen-baum-blatt and Father, Judapest, 5688, A.M.) 

whole-heartedly takes off his gabbercoat and wig, 

honest draughty fellow, 

in his public interest, 

to make us see how though, 

as he says: ‘by Allswill’ 

the inception and the descent and the endswell of Man 

is temporarily wrapped in obscenity, 

looking through at these accidents with the faroscope of television, 

(this night-life instrument needs still some subtractional betterment 

in the readjustment of the more refrangible angles 

to the squeals of his hypothesis on the outer tin sides), 

I can easily believe heartily in my own most spacious immensity (p151) 

as my own-house and micro-bemost cosm 

when I am reassured by ratio 

that the cube of my volumes is to the surfaces of their subjects 

as the sphericity of these globes 

(I am very pressing for a parliamentary motion this term 

which, under my guidance, 

would establish the deleteriousness of decorousness 

in the morbidisation of the modern mand-about-woman type) 

is to the feracity of Fairy-nelly’s vacuum. 


I need not anthr-apologise for any obintentional 

(I must here correct all that school of neoitalian 

or paleo-parisien schola of tinkers and spanglers 

who say I’m wrong 

parce-queue out of revolscian from romanitis I want to be) 

down-trodding on my foes. 


Professor Levi-Brullo, 

F.D. of Sexe-Weiman-Eitelnaky finds, 

from experiments made by hinn 

with his Nuremberg eggs in the one hands 

and the watches cunldron apan the oven, 

though it is astensably a case of Ket’s rebollions cooling the Popes back, 

because the number of squeer faiths in weekly circulation 

will not be appreciably augmented 

by the nother-slogging of my cupolar clods. 


What the romantic in rags pines after 

like all tom-tompions haunting crevices for a deadbeat escupement 

and what het importunes our Mitleid for 

in accornish with the Morta-darthella tara-dition 

is the poorest common-on-guardiant waste of time. 


His ever-present toes are always in retaliessian out throuth his overpast boots. 

Hear him squak! 

Teek heet to that loo-swallawer how he bolo the bat! 

Tyro a toray! 


When Mullocky won the couple of colds, 

when we were stripping in number three, 

I would like the neat drop that would malt in my mouth 

but I fail to see when 

(I am purposely refraining from expounding the obvious fallacy 

as to the specific gravitates of the two deglutables implied 

nor to the lapses lequou asousiated 

with the royal gorge through students of mixed hydrostatics and pneumo-dipsics 

will after some difficulties grapple away with my meinungs). 


Myrrdin aloer! as old Marsellas Cambriannus puts his. 

But, on Professor Llewellys ap Bryllars, F.D., Ph. Dr’s showings, 

the plea, if he pleads, 

is all posh and robbage on a melo-deontic scale 

since his man’s when is no otherman’s quandour 

(Mine, dank you?) 

while, for aught I care for the contrary, 

the all is where in love as war 

and (p152) the plane where me arts soar you’d aisy rouse a thunder from 

and where I cling true’tis there I climb tree 

and where Innocent looks best (pick!) there’s holly in his ives.


As my explanations here are probably above your understandings, 

lattle-brattons, 

though as augmentatively uncomparisoned 

as Cadwan, Cadwallon and Cadwalloner, 

I shall revert to a more expletive method 

which I frequently use when I have to sermo with muddle-crass pupils. 


Imagine for my purpose that you are a squad of urchins, 

sniffly-nosed, gosling-necked, clothy-headed, 

tangled in your lacings, tingled in your pants, 

etsitaraw etcicero. 


And you, Bruno Nowlan, take your tongue out of your inkpot! 

As none of you knows javanese 

I will give all my easyfree translation of the old fabulist’s parable. 

Allaboy Minor, take your head out of your satchel! 

Audi, Joe Peters! Exaudi facts!

————————————————————

The Mookse and The Gripes.

———————————————————————

Gentes and laitymen, full-stoppers and semi-colonials, hybreds and lubberds!

——————————————————————-

Eins within a space and a wearywide space it wast ere wohned a Mookse. 


The onesomeness wast all-to-lonely, 

arch-unsitslike, broady oval, 

and a Mookse he would a walking go 

(My hood! cries Antony Romeo), 

so one grandsumer evening, 

after a great morning and his good supper of gammon and spittish, 

having flabelled his eyes, 

pilleoled his nostrils, 

vacticanated his ears and palliumed his throats, 

he put on his impermeable, 

seized his impugnable, 

harped on his crown and stepped out of his immobile De Rure Albo 

(socolled becauld it was chalkfull of master-plasters 

and had borgeously letout gardens strown 

with cascadas, pinta-costecas, hortho-ducts and curry-combs) 

and set off from Ludstown a spasso 

to see how badness was badness 

in the weirdest of all pensible ways.

————————————————————-

As he set off with his father’s sword, 

his lancia spezzata, 

he was girded on, 

and with that between his legs and his tarkeels, 

our once in only Bragspear, 

he clanked, 

to my clinking, 

from veetoes to threetop, 

every inch of an immortal.

——————————————————————

He had not walked over a pentiad-pair of parsecs from his azylium 

when at the turning of the Shin-shone Lanteran 

near (p153) Saint Bowery’s-without-his-Walls 

he came 

(secunding to the one one oneth of the propecies, 

Amnis Limina Permanent) 

upon the most unconsciously boggy-looking stream he ever locked his eyes with. 


Out of the colliens it took a rise by daubing itself Ninon. 


It looked little 

and it smelt of brown 

and it thought in narrows 

and it talked show-shallow. 


And as it rinn it dribbled like any lively purlit-easy: 

My, my, my! Me and me! Little down dream don’t I love thee!

—————————————————————————

And, I declare, what was there on the yonder bank of the stream 

that would be a river, 

parched on a limb of the olum, 

bolt downright, but the Gripes? 


And no doubt he was fit to be dried 

for why had he not been having the juice of his times?

———————————————————————-

His pips had been neatly all drowned on him; 

his polps were charging odours every older minute; 

he was quickly for getting the dresser’s desdaign on the flyleaf of his frons; 

and he was quietly for giving the bailiff’s distrain 

on to the bulkside of his cul de Pompe. 


In all his specious heavings, 

as be lived by Optimus Maximus, 

the Mookse had never seen his Dubville brooder-on-low so nigh to a pickle.

———————————————————————

Adrian (that was the Mookse now’s assumptinome) 

stuccstill phiz-à-phiz to the Gripes in an accessit of aurignacian. 


But Allmookse must to Moodend much as Allrouts, 

austere-ways or waster-sways, 

in roaming run through Room. 


Hic sor a stone, singularly illud, 

and on hoc stone Seter satt huc sate 

which it filled quite poposterously 

and by acclammitation to its fullest justo-toryum and where-opum 

with his unfallable encyclicling upom his all-oilable, 

diupetriark of the wouest, 

and the athemyst-sprinkled pederect he always walked with, 

Deusdedit, cheek by jowel with his frisherman’s blague? 


Bellua Triumphanes, 

his everyway addedto wallat’s collectium, 

for yea longer he lieved yea broader he betaught of it, 

the fetter, the summe and the haul it cost, 

he looked the first and last micah-like laicness 

of Quartus the Fifth and Quintus the Sixth and Sixtus the Seventh 

giving allnight sitting to Lio the Faulty-findth.

———————————————————

—Good appetite us, sir Mookse! 

How do you do it? 

cheeped the Gripes in a wherry whiggy maudelenian woice 

and the jackasses (p154) all within bawl laughed 

and brayed for his intentions 

for they knew their sly toad lowry now. 

I am rarum-ominum blessed to see you, my dear mouster. 

Will you not perhopes tell me everything if you are pleased, sanity? 

All about aulne and lithial and allsall allinall about awn and liseias? Ney?

——————————————-

Think of it! 

O miser-end-issimest retempter! 

A Gripes!

——————————————-

—Rats! bullowed the Mookse most tele-sphorously, 

the concionator, 

and the sissy-musses and the zozzy-musses in their roben-hauses 

quailed to hear his tardey-nois at all 

for you cannot wake a silken nouse out of a hoarse oar. 


Blast yourself and your anathomy in-fairi-ori-boos! 

No, hang you for an animal rurale! 

I am superbly in my supremest poncif! 

Abase you, baldyqueens! 

Gather behind me, satraps! 

Rots!

———————————————————-

—I am till infinity obliged with you, 

bowed the Gripes, 

his whine having gone to his palpruy head.

I am still always having a wish on all my extremities. 

By the watch, what is the time, pace?

Figure it! The pining peever! To a Mookse!

————————————————————

—Ask my index, 

mund my achilles, 

swell my obolum, 

woshup my nase serene, 

answered the Mookse, 

rapidly by turning clement, urban, eugenious and celestian 

in the formose of good grogory humours. 


Quote awhore? 

That is quite about what I came on my missions 

with my intentions laudibiliter to settle with you, barbarousse. 


Let thor be orlog. 

Let Pauline be Irene. 

Let you be Beeton. 

And let me be Los Angeles. 

Now measure your length. 

Now estimate my capacity. 

Well, sour? 

Is this space of our couple of hours too dimensional for you, temporiser? 

Will you give you up? 

Como? Fuert it?

———————————————————

Sancta Patientia! 

You should have heard the voice that answered him! 

Culla vosellina.

————————————————————

—I was just thinkling upon that, 

swees Mooksey, 

but, for all the rime on my raisins, 

if I connow make my submission, 

I cannos give you up, 

the Gripes whimpered from nether-most of his wanhope. 


I-shall-as-so-bound-be-wil-so-thou-too-sezit. 

My tumble, loudy bullocker, is my own. 

My velicity is too fit in one stockend. 

And my spetial inexshellsis the belowing things ab ove. 

But I will never be abler to tell Your Honoriousness 

(here he near lost (p155) his limb) 

though my corked father was bott a pseudo-waiter, 

whose o’cloak you ware.

—————————————————————

Incredible! Well, hear the inevitable.

—————————————————————-

—Your temple, sus in cribro! 

Semper-excommuni-cambi-ambi-sumers. 

Tugurios-in-Newrobe or Tukurias-in-Ashies. 

Novarome, my creature, blievend bleives. 

My building space in lyonine city is always to let to leonlike Men, 

the Mookse in a most consistorous allocution pompifically 

with immediate jurisdiction constantinently concludded 

(what a crammer for the shapewrucked Gripes!). 


And I regret to proclaim that it is out of my temporal 

to help you from being killed by inchies, 

(what a thrust!), 

as we first met each other newwhere so airly. 


(Poor little sowsieved subsquashed Gripes! I begin to feel contemption for him!). 


My side, thank decretals, is as safe as motherour’s houses, he continued, 

and I can seen from my holeydome what it is to be wholly sane. 


Union-jok and be joined to yok! 

Parysis, tu sais, crucy-crooks, belongs to him who parises himself. 

And there I must leave you subject for the pressing. 

I can prove that against you, weight a momentum, mein goot enemy! 

or Cospol’s not our star. 

I bet you this dozen odd. 

This foluminous dozen odd. 

Quas primas—but ’tis bitter to compote my knowledge’s fructos of. 

Tomes.

—————————————————————————

Elevating, to give peint to his blick, 

his jewelled pederect to the allmysty cielung, 

he luckystruck blueild out of a few shouldbe santillants, 

a cloister of starabouts over Maples, 

a lucciolys in Teresa street 

and a stopsign before Sophy Barratt’s, 

he gaddered togodder the odds docence 

of his vellumes, gresk, letton and russicruxian, 

onto the lapse of his prolegs, 

into umfullth onescuppered, 

and sat about his widerproof 

He proved it well who-on-earth dry and drysick times, 

and vremiament, tu cesses, 

to the extinction of Niklaus altogether 

(Niklaus Alopysius having been the once Gripes’s popwilled nimbum) 

by Neuclidius and Inexagoras and Mumfsen and Thumpsem, 

by Orasmus and by Amenius, 

by Anacletus the Jew 

and by Malachy the Augurer 

and by the Cappon’s collection 

and after that, with Cheekee’s gelatine and All-day-brandy’s formolon, 

he reproved it ehrltogether (p156) 

when not in that order sundering in some different order, 

alter three thirty and a hundred times 

by the binomial dioram and the penic walls 

and the ind, the Inklespill legends and the rure, 

the rule of the hoop and the blessons of expedience 

and the jus, the jugicants of Pontius Pilax 

and all the mummy-scrips in Sick Bokes’ Juncroom 

and the Chapters for the Cunning of the Chapters of the Conning Fox by Tail.


While that Mooksius with pre-procession and with pro-precession, 

duplicitly and diplussedly, 

was promulgating ipso-facts and sad-contras this raskolly Gripos 

he had allbust seceded in mono-physicking his ill-sobordunates. 


But as-awful-as he had caught his base semen-oyous sarch-nak-tiers 

to combuccinate upon the silipses of his as-pillouts 

and the ache-pore-oozers of his haggy-own pneumax 

to synerethetise with the bread-chest-viousness of his sweeat-ovular ducose 

so-far-fully the logger-thuds of his sakellaries were fond at variance 

with the synodals of his some-pooliom 

and his babs-kissed nepo-greasy-most got the hoof from his philioquus.

————————————————————————

—Efter thousand yaws, O Gripes con my sheepskins, 

yow will be belined to the world, 

enscayed Mookse the pius.

——————————————————-

—Ofter thousand yores, amsered Gripes the gregary, 

be the goat of MacHammud’s, 

yours may be still, 

O Mookse, more botheared.

———————————————————————

—Us shall be chosen as the first of the last by the electress of Vale Hollow, 

obselved the Mookse nobily, 

for par the unicum of Elelijiacks, 

Us am in Our stabulary 

and that is what Ruby and Roby fall for, blissim.

——————————————————————

The Pills, the Nasal Wash (Yardly’s), 

the Army Man Cut, 

as british as bondstrict 

and as straightcut as when that brokenarched traveller from Nuzuland . . . 

—————————————————————————

—Wee, cumfused the Gripes limply, 

shall not even be the last of the first, 

wee hope, when oust are visitated by the Veiled Horror. 

And, he added: 

Mee are relying entirely, 

see the forte-thurd of Elissabed, 

on the weightiness of mear’s breath. 

Puffut!


Unsightbared embouscher, 

relentless foe to social and business succes! 

(Hourihaleine) 

It might have been a happy evening but . . . (p157)

———————————————————————

And they viterberated each other, 

canis et coluber with the wildest ever wielded since 

Tarriestinus lashed Piss-as-phaltium.

——————————————————

—Unuchorn!

—Ungulant!

—Uvuloid!

—Uskybeak!

———————————————————

And bullfolly answered volleyball.

—————————————————————-

Nuvoletta in her lightdress, 

spunn of sisteen shimmers, 

was looking down on them, 

leaning over the bannistars and listening all she childishly could. 


How she was brightened 

when Shouldrups in his glaubering hoch-skied his welkin-stuck 

and how she was overclused when Knees-knobs on his zwivvel 

was makeacting such a paulse of himshelp! 

She was alone. 

All her nubied companions were asleeping with the squirrels. 


Their mivver, Mrs Moonan, 

was off in the Fuerst quarter scrubbing the backsteps of Number 28. 


Fuvver, that Skand, 

he was up in Norwood’s soka-parlour, 

eating oceans of Voking’s Blemish. 


Nuvoletta listened as she reflected herself, 

though the heavenly one 

with his constellatria and his emanations stood between, 

and she tried all she tried to make the Mookse look up at her 

(but he was fore too adiaptotously farseeing) 

and to make the Gripes hear how coy she could be 

(though he was much too schystimatically auricular about his ens to heed her) 

but it was all mild’s vapour moist. 


Not even her feignt reflection, Nuvoluccia, 

could they toke their gnoses off for their minds 

with intrepi-fide fate and bungless curiasity, 

were conclaved with Helio-gobbleus and Commodus and Eno-barbarus 

and whatever the coordinal dickens they did 

as their damprauch of papyrs and buch-stubs said. 


As if that was their spiration! 

As if theirs could duiparate her queendim! 

As if she would be third perty to search on search proceedings! 

She tried all the winsome wonsome ways her four winds had taught her. 

She tossed her sfuma-stelliacinous hair 

like le princesse de la Petite Bretagne 

and she rounded her mignons arms 

like Mrs Cornwallis-West 

and she smiled over herself 

like the beauty 

of the image 

of the pose 

of the daughter of the queen 

of the Emperour of Irelande 

and she sighed after herself 

as were she born (p158) to bride with Tristis Tristior Tristissimus. 


But, sweet madonine, 

she might fair as well have carried her daisy’s worth to Florida. 

For the Mookse, a dogmad Accanite, 

were not amoosed 

and the Gripes, a dubli-boused Catalick, 

wis pine-fully obliviscent.

————————————————————

I see, she sighed. There are menner.

——————————————————

The siss of the whisp of the sigh 

of the softzing at the stir of the ver grose O arundo 

of a long one in midias reeds: 

and shades began to glidder along the banks, 

greepsing, greepsing, duusk unto duusk, 

and it was as glooming as gloaming could be 

in the waste of all peacable worlds. 


Metamnisia was all-soo-nome coloro-form brune; 

citherior spiane an eaulande, in-nemorous and un-numerose. 

The Mookse had a sound eyes right but he could not all hear. 

The Gripes had light ears left yet he could but ill see. 

He ceased. 

And he ceased, tung and trit, 

and it was never-so-ever so dusk of both of them. 

But still Moo thought on the deeps of the undths 

he would profoundth come the morrokse 

and still Gri feeled of the scripes he would escipe 

if by grice he had luck enoupes.

————————————————————————-

Oh, how it was duusk! 

From Vallee Maraia to Grasya-plaina, dormimust echo! 

Ah dew! Ah dew! 

It was so duusk that the tears of night began to fall, 

first by ones and twos, 

then by threes and fours, 

at last by fives and sixes of sevens, 

for the tired ones were wecking, 

as we weep now with them. 

O! O! O! Par la pluie!

———————————————————————

Then there came down to the thither bank a woman of no appearance 

(I believe she was a Black with chills at her feet) 

and she gathered up his hoariness the Mookse mota-mourfully 

where he was spread and carried him away to her invisible dwelling, 

thats hights, Aquila Rapax, 

for he was the holy sacred solem and poshup spit of her boshop’s apron. 


So you see the Mookse he had reason 

as I knew and you knew and he knew all along. 

And there came down to the hither bank a woman to all important 

(though they say that she was comely, spite the cold in her heed) 

and, for he was as like it as blow it to a hawker’s hank, 

she plucked down the Gripes, 

torn panicky autotone, 

in angeu from his limb 

and cariad away its beotitubes with her to her unseen (p159) shieling, 

it is, De Rore Coeli. 

And so the poor Gripes got wrong; 

for that is always how a Gripes is, always was and always will.be. 

And it was never so thoughtful of either of them. 

And there were left now an only elmtree and but a stone. 

Polled with pietrous, Sierre but saule. 

O! Yes! And Nuvoletta, a lass.

———————————————-

Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time in her little long life 

and she made up all her myriads of drifting minds in one. 

She cancelled all her engauzements. 

She climbed over the bannistars; 

she gave a childy cloudy cry: 

Nuée! Nuée! 

A lightdress fluttered. 

She was gone. 


And into the river that had been a stream 

(for a thousand of tears had gone eon her and come on her 

and she was stout and struck on dancing 

and her muddied name was Missisliffi) 

there fell a tear, a singult tear, the loveliest of all tears 

(I mean for those crylove fables fans 

who are ‘keen’ on the pretty-pretty common-face sort of thing you meet by hope-harrods) 

for it was a leaptear. 


But the river tripped on her by and by, 

lapping as though her heart was brook: 

Why, why, why! 

Weh, O weh I’se so silly to be flowing but I no canna stay!

——————————————————————-

No applause, please! Bast! 

The romescot nattle-shaker will go round your circulation in diu dursus.

————————————————————————

Allaboy, Major, I’ll take your reactions in another place after themes. 

Nolan Browne, you may now leave the classroom. 

Joe Peters, Fox.

——————————————————————-

As I have now successfully explained to you 

my own natural-born rations 

which are even in excise of my vaulty-brain 

insure me that I am a mouth’s more deserving case by genius. 

I feel in symbathos for my ever devoted friend and half-a-loaf-on-washed, 

Gnaccus Gnoccovitch. 

Darling gem! 

Darling smallfox! 

Horoseshoew! 


I could love that man like my own ambo for being so bailey-cliaver 

though he’s a nawful curillass and I must slav to meth-odiousness. 

I want him to go and live like a theabild in charge of the night brigade 

on Tristan da Cunha, 

isle of manoverboard, 

where he’ll make Number 106 and be near Inaccessible. 

(The meeting of mahoganies, be the waves, 

rementious me that this exposed sight 

though it pines for an umbrella of its own 

and needs a shelter belt of the true service sort to keep its (p160) boles clean,

—the weeping beeches, Picea and Tillia, are in a wild state about it

—ought to be classified, 

as Cricket-butt Willowm and his two nurserymen advisers suggested, 

under genus Inexhaustible 

when we refloat upon all the butternat, 

sweet gum and manna ash redcedera 

which is so purvulent there 

as if there was howthorns in Curragh-chasa 

which ought to look as plane as a lodgepole to anybody 

until we are introduced to that pineta-cotta of Verney Rubeus 

where the deodarty is pinctured for us in a pure stand, 

which we do not doubt ha has a habitat of doing, 

but without those self-sown-seedlings 

which are a species of proof that the largest individual can occur at 

or in an olivetion such as East Conna Hillock 

where it mixes with foolth accacians and common sallies and is tender) 

Vux Populus, as we say in hickory-hockery 

and I wish we had some more glasses of arbor vitae. 


Why roat by the roadside or awn over alum pot? 

Alderman White-beaver is dakyo. 

He ought to go away for a change of ideas 

and he’d have a world of things to look back on. 

Do, sweet Daniel! 

If I weren’t a jones in myself I’d elect myself to be his dolphin 

in the wilds-billow because he is such a barefooted rubber 

with my super-socks pulled over his face 

which I publicked in my bestback garden 

for the laetification of sidero-dromites 

and to the irony of the stars. 


You will say it is most unenglish 

and I shall hope to hear that you will not be wrong about it. 

But I further, feeling a bit husky in my truths.

—————————————————————-

Will you please come over 

and let us moore-moore murgessly 

to each’s other down below our vices. 


I am underheerd by old billfaust. 

Wilsh is full of curks. 

The cool-skittle is philip deblinite. 

Mr Wist is thereover beyeind the wantnot. 

Wilsh and wist are as thick of thins udder as faust on the deblinite. 

Sguno-shooto estas preter la tapizo malgranda. 

Lilegas al si en sia chambro. 

Kelkefoje funcktas, kelkefoje srumpas Shultroj. 

Houdian Kiel vi fartas, mia nigra sinjoro? 

And from the poignt of fun where I am crying to arrive you at 

they are on allfore as foible-minded as you can feel they are fable-bodied.

————————————————————-

My heeders will recoil with a great leisure 

how at the outbreak before trespassing 

on the space question 

where even (p161) michel-angelines have fooled to dread 

I proved to mindself as to your sotisfiction how his abject all through 

(the quick-quid of Professor Ciondolone’s too frequently hypothecated Bettler-mensch) 

is nothing so much more than a mere cashdime 

however genteel he may want ours, 

if we please (I am speaking to us in the second person), 

for to this graded intellecktuals dime is cash and the cash system 

(you must not be allowed to forget that this is all contained, 

I mean the system, in the dogmarks of origen on spurios) 

means that I cannot now have or nothave a piece of cheeps in your pocket 

at the same time and with the same manners 

as you can now nothalf 

or half the cheek apiece I’ve in mind 

unless Burrus and Caseous have not 

or not have seem-aultaneously sys-entangled themselves, 

selldear to soldthere, 

once in the dairy days of buy and buy.

————————————————————————

Burrus, let us like to imagine, is a genuine prime, 

the real choice, full of natural greace, 

the mildest of milkstoffs yet unbeaten as a risicide 

and, of course, obsoletely unadulterous 

whereat Caseous is obversely the revise of him 

and in fact not an ideal choose by any meals, 

though the betterman of the two is meltingly addicted 

to the more casual side of the arrivaliste case 

and, let me say it at once, 

as zealous over him as is passably he. 


The seemsame home and histry seeks and hidepence 

which we used to be reading for our prepurgatory, 

hot, Schott? 

till Duddy shut the shopper op 

and Mutti, poor Mutti! brought us our poor suppy, 

(ah who! eh how!) 

in Acetius and Oleosus and Sellius Volatilis and Petrus Papricus! 


Our Old Party quite united round the Slatbowel at Commons: 

Pfarrer Salamoss himself and that sprog of a Pedersill 

and his Sprig of Thyme and a dozen of the Murphybuds 

and a score and more of the hot young Capels 

and Lettucia in her greensleeves 

and you too and me three, 

twinsome bibs but hansome ates, 

like shakespill and eggs! 


But there’s many a split pretext bowl and jowl; 

and (snob screwing that cork, Schott!) to understand this as well as you can, 

feeling how backward you are 

in your down-to-the-ground benches, 

I have completed the following arrangement 

for the coarse use of stools 

and if I don’t make away with you 

I’m beyond Caesar outnullused (p162)

——————————————————————-

The older sisars (Tyrants, regicide is too good for you!) 

become unbeurrable from age, 

(the compositor of the farce of dustiny however 

makes a thunple-drum mistake by letting off this pieno-farte effect 

as his furst act as that is where the juke comes in) 

having been sort-of-nine-knived and chewly removed 

(this soldier-author-batman for all his common-toryism 

is just another of those souftsiezed bubbles 

who never quite got the sandhurst out of his eyes 

so that the champaign he draws for us 

is as flop as a plan-krieg) 

the twinfreer types are billed to make their reupprearance 

as the knew kneck and knife knickknots 

on the deserted champ de bouteilles. 


(A most cursery reading into the Persic-Uraliens hostery 

shows us how Fonnumagula picked up that propper numen 

out of a colluction of prifixes 

though to the permienting cannasure the Coucousien oafsprung of this sun of a kuk 

is as sattin as there’s a tub in Tobolosk) 

Ostiak della Vogul Marina! 


But that I dannoy the fact of wanton to weste point 

I could paint you to that butter (cheese it!) 

if you had some wash. 

Mordvealive! Oh me none onsens! 

Why the case is as inessive and impossive as kezom hands! 

Their interlocative is conprovocative 

just as every hazzy hates to having a hazbane in her noze. 


Caseous may bethink himself a thought of a caviller 

but Burrus has the reachly roundered head that goes best 

with thofthinking defensive fideism. 

He has the lac of wisdom under every dent in his lofter 

while the other follow’s onni vesy milky indeedmymy. 

Laughing over the linnuts and weeping off the uniun. 

He hisn’t the hey og he lisn’t the lug, poohoo. 

And each night sim misses mand he winks he had the semagen. 


It was aptly and corrigidly stated 

(and, it is royally needless for one ex ungue Leonem to say by whom) 

that his seeings-craft was that clarety 

as were the whole-borough of Poutresbourg to be aver-launched over him pitch-batch 

he could still make out with his augstritch the green moat in Ireland’s Eye. 


Let me sell you the fulltroth of Burrus when he wore a younker. 

Here it is, and chorming too, in six by sevens! 

A cleanly line, by the gods! 

A king off duty and a jaw for ever! 

And what a cheery ripe outlook, good help me Deus v Deus! 

If I were to speak (p163) my ohole mouthful to arinam about it 

you should call me the ormuzd aliment in your midst of faime. 

Eat ye up, heat ye up! sings the somun in the salm. 

Butyrum et mel comedet ut sciat reprobare malum et eligere bonum. 


This, of course, also explains why we were taught to play in the childhood: 

Der Haensli ist ern Butter-brot, mein Butter-brot! 

Und Koebi iss dein Schtinken-kot! 

Ja! Ja! Ja!

—————————————————————————-

This in fact, just to show you, is Caseous, 

the brutherscutch or puir tyron: 

a hole or two, the highstinks aforefelt and anygo prigging wurms. 

Cheesugh! you complain. 

And Hi Hi High must say you are not Hoa Hoa Hoally in the wrong!

———————————————————-

Thus we cannot escape our likes and mislikes, 

exiles or ambusheers, 

beggar and neighbour and

—this is where the dime—show advertisers advance the temporal relief plea

—let us be tolerant of antipathies. 


Nex quovis burro num fit mercaseus? 

I am not hereby giving my final endorsement 

to the learned ignorants of the Cusanus philosophism 

in which old Nicholas pegs it down 

that the smarter the spin of the top 

the sounder the span of the buttom 

(what the worthy old auberginiste ought to have meant was: 

the more stolidly immobile in space appears to me the bottom 

which is presented to use in time by the top primomobilisk &c.). 


And I shall be misunderstord if understood to give an unconditional sinequam 

to the heroicised furibouts of the Nolanus theory, 

or, at any rate, of that substrate of apart from hissheory 

where the Theophil swoors that on principial 

he was the pointing start of his odiose by comparison 

and that whiles eggs will fall cheapened all over the walled 

the Bure will be dear on the Brie.

————————————————————————

Now, while I am not out now to be taken up 

as unintentionally recommending the Silke-bjorg tyron-dynamon machine 

for the more economical helixtrolysis of these ambo-adipates 

until I can find space to look into it myself 

a little more closely 

first I shall go on with my decisions 

after having shown to you in good time 

how both products of our social stomach 

(the excellent Dr Burroman, 

I noticed by the way 

from his emended food theory, 

has been carefully digesting the very wholesome criticism (p164)

I helped him to 

in my princeps edition 

which is all so munch to the cud) 

are mutu-early polarised 

the incompatabilily of any delusional acting 

as ambivalent to the fixation of his pivotism. 


Positing, as above, too males pooles, 

the one the pictor of the other 

and the omber the Skotia of the one, 

and looking wantingly around our undistributed middle 

between males 

we feel we must waistfully woent a female to focus 

and on this stage there pleasantly appears the cowrymaid M. 

whom we shall often meet below 

who introduces herself upon us at some precise hour 

which we shall again agree to call absolute zero 

or the babbling pumpt of platinism. 


And so like that former son of a kish 

who went up and out 

to found his farmer’s ashes 

we come down home gently 

on our own turnedabout asses 

to meet Margareen.

——————————————————————

We now romp through a period of pure lyricism 

of shame-bred music 

(technologically, let me say, 

the appetising entry of this subject 

on a fool chest of vialds 

is plumply pudding the carp before doevre hors) 

evidenced by such words in distress as 

I cream for thee, Sweet Margareen, 

and the more hopeful 

O Margareena! O Margareena! 

Still in the bowl is left a lump of gold! 

(Correspondents, by the way, 

will keep on asking me 

what is the correct garnish to serve drisheens with. 

Tansy Sauce. Enough). 


The pawnbreaking pathos of the first of these shoddy pieces 

reveals it as a Caseous effort. 


Burrus’s bit is often used for a toast. 

Criniculture can tell us very precisely indeed 

how and why this particular streak of yellow silver 

first appeared on (not in) the bowel, 

that is to see, the human head, 

bald, black, bronze, brown, brindled, betteraved or blanchemanged 

where it might be usefully compared with an earwig on a fullbottom. 


I am offering this to Signorina Cuticura 

and I intend to take it up 

and bring it under the nosetice of Herr Harlene 

by way of diverting his attentions. 


Of course the unskilled singer continues to pervert our wiser ears 

by subordinating the space-element, 

that is to sing, the aria, 

to the time-factor, 

which ought to be killed, ill tempor. 


I should advise any unborn singer 

who may still be among my heeders 

to forget her temporal diaphragm at home (p165)

(the best thing that could happen to it!) 

and attack the roulade with a swift colpo di glottide to the lug 

(though Maace I will insist was reclined from overdoing this, 

his recovery often being slow) 

and then, 

O! on the third dead beat, 

O! to cluse her eyes and aiopen her oath 

and see what spice I may send her. 


How? 

Cease thee, cantatrickee! 

I fain would be solo. 

Arouse thee, my valour! 

And save for e’er my true Bdur!

———————————————————————

I shall have a word to say in a few yards 

about the acoustic and orchidectural management of the tonehall 

but, as ours is a vivarious 

where one plant’s breaf is a lunger planner’s byscent 

and you may not care for argon, 

it will be very convenient 

for me for the emolument 

to pursue Burrus and Caseous for a rung or two up their isocelating biangle. 


Every admirer has seen my goulache of Marge 

(she is so like the sister, you don’t know, 

and they both dress A L I K E!) 

which I titled The Very Picture of a Needless-woman 

which in the presence ornates our national cruetstand. 


This genre of portraiture of changes of mind 

in order to be truly torse 

should evoke the bush soul of females 

so I am leaving it to the experienced victim 

to complete the general suggestion 

by the mental addition of a wallopy bound 

or, should the zulugical zealot prefer it, 

a congorool teal. 


The hat-boxes which composed Rhomba, 

lady Trabezond (Marge in her excelsis), 

also comprised the climactogram 

up which B and C may fondly be imagined ascending 

and are suggestive of gentlemen’s spring modes, 

these modes carrying us back to the superimposed claylayers 

of eocene and pleastoseen formation 

and the gradual morphological changes in our body politic 

which Professor Ebahi-Ahuri of Philadespoinis (Ill)

—whose blue-butter-bust I have just given his coupe de grass to

—neatly names a boîte à surprises. 


The boxes, if I may break the subject gently, 

are worth about fourpence pourbox 

but I am inventing a more patent process, 

foolproof and pry-perfect 

(I should like to ask that Shedlock Homes person 

who is out for removing the roofs of our criminal classics 

by what deductio ad domunum he hopes de tacto to detect anything 

unless he happens of himself, movibile tectu, 

to have a slade off) 

after which they can be reduced to a fragment of their (p166) true crust 

by even the youngest of Margees 

if she will take plase to be seated 

and smile if I please.

——————————————————————-

Now there can be no question about it 

either that I having done as much, 

have quite got the size of that demilitery young female 

(we will continue to call her Marge) 

whose types may be met with in any public garden, 

wearing a very “dressy” affair, 

known as an “ethel” of instep length 

and with a real fur, 

reduced to 3/9, 

and muffin cap to tone (they are “angelskin” this fall), 

ostentatiously hemming apologetically over the shirtness of some “sweet” garment, 

when she is not sitting on all the free benches 

avidously reading about “it” 

but ovidently on the look out for “him” 

or so “thrilled” 

about the best dressed dolly pram and beautiful elbow competition 

or at the movies swallowing sobs 

and blowing bixed mixcuits over “childe” chaplain’s “latest” 

or on the verge of the gutter 

with some bobbedhair brief-frocked babyma’s toddler 

(the Smythe-Smythes now keep TWO domestics 

and aspire to THREE male ones, 

a shover, a butlegger and a sectary) 

held hostage at armslength, 

teaching His Infant Majesty how to make waters worse.

————————————————————————

(I am closely watching Master Pules, 

as I have regions to suspect from my post 

that her “litde man” is a secondary school-teacher 

under the boards of education, 

a voted disciple of Infantulus 

who is being utilised thus publicly 

by the seducente infanta 

to conceal her own more mascular personality 

by flaunting frivolish finery over men’s inside clothes, 

for the femininny of that totamulier will always lack the musculink of a verum-virum. 


My solotions for the proper parturience of matres 

and the education of micturious mites 

must stand over from the moment 

till I tackle this tickler hussy for occupying my uttentions.)

——————————————————-

Margareena she’s very fond of Burrus 

but, alick and alack! she velly fond of chee. 


(The important influence exercised on everything 

by this eastasian import has not been till now fully flavoured 

though we can comfortably taste it in this case. 

I shall come back for a little more say farther on.) 


A cleopatrician in her own right 

she at once complicates the position 

while Burrus and Caseous are contending for her misstery 

by implicating herself (p167) with an elusive Antonius, 

a wop who would appear to hug a personal interest 

in refined chees of all chades 

at the same time as he wags an antomine art 

of being rude like the boor. 


This Antonius-Burrus-Caseous group-triad 

may be said to equate the qualis equivalent 

with the older socalled talis on talis 

one just as quantly as in the hyper-chemical econo-mantarchy 

the tantum ergons irruminate the quantum urge 

so that eggs is to whey as whay is to zeed 

like your golfchild’s abe boob caddy. 


And this is why any simple philadolphus of a fool you like to dress, 

an athe-mist-hued low-townian, 

exlegged phatrisight, 

may be awfully green to one side of him 

and fruitfully blue on the other 

which will not screen him however from appealing to my grope-sarching eyes, 

through the strongholes of my acropoll, 

as a boosted blasted bleating blatant bloaten blasphorus blesphorous idiot 

who kennot tail a bomb from a painapple 

when he steals one 

and wannot psing his psalmen 

with the cong in our gregational pompoms 

with the canting crew.

————————————————————

No! Topsman to your Tarpeia! 

This thing, Mister Abby, is nefand. 

(And, taking off sout-stuffs and alka-like matters, 

I hope we can kill time to reach the salt 

because there’s some force-glass neutric assets bittering in the sold-pewter 

for you to plump your pottage in). 


The thundering legion has stormed Olymp that it end. 

Twelve tabular times till now have I edicted it. 

Merus Genius to Careous Caseous! 

Moriture, te salutat! 

My phemous themis race is run, 

so let Demoncracy take the highmost! 


(Abraham Tripier. 

Those old diligences are quite out of date. 

Read next answer). 


I’ll beat you so lon. 


(Big-tempered. 

Why not take direct action. 

See previous reply). 


My unchanging Word is sacred. 


The word is my Wife, 

to exponse and expound, 

to vend and to velnerate, 

and may the curlews crown our nuptias! 


Till Breath us depart! 

Wamen. 

Beware would you change with my years. 

Be as young as your grandmother! 

The ring man in the rong shop but the rite words by the rote order! 

Ubi lingua nuncupassit, ibi fas! 

Adversus hostem semper sac! 

She that will not feel my fulmoon 

let her peel to thee as the hoyden and the impudent! 

That mon that hoth no moses in his sole 

nor is not awed by conquists (p168) of word’s law, 

who never with humself was fed 

and leaves his soil to lave his head, 

when his hope’s in his high-lows from whisking his woe, 

if he came to my preach, 

a proud purse-broken ranger, 

when the heavens were welling the spite of their spout, 

to beg for a bite in our bark Noisdanger, 

would meself and Mac Jeffet, 

four-in-hand, 

foot him out?

—ay!

—were he my own breast-brother, 

my doubled withd love and my single-biassed hate, 

were we bread by the same fire and signed with the same salt, 

had we tapped from the same master and robbed the same till, 

were we tucked in the one bed and bit by the one flea, 

homo-gallant and hemy-cap-noise, 

bum and dingo, jack by churl, 

though it broke my heart to pray it, 

still I’d fear I’d hate to say!

————————————————————————-

12. 


Sacer esto?

Answer: Semus sumus!

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