Text FW 043

going ladies from Hume Street in their chairs, the bearers baited,1
some wandering hamalags out of the adjacent cloverfields of2
Mosse's Gardens, an oblate father from Skinner's Alley, brick-3
layers, a fleming, in tabinet fumant, with spouse and dog, an aged4
hammersmith who had some chisellers by the hand, a bout of5
cudgel players, not a few sheep with the braxy, two bluecoat6
scholars, four broke gents out of Simpson's on the Rocks, a7
portly and a pert still tassing Turkey Coffee and orange shrub in8
tickeyes door, Peter Pim and Paul Fry and then Elliot and, O,9
Atkinson, suffering hell's delights from the blains of their annui-10
tants' acorns not forgetting a deuce of dianas ridy for the hunt, a11
particularist prebendary pondering on the roman easter, the ton-12
sure question and greek uniates, plunk em, a lace lappet head or13
two or three or four from a window, and so on down to a few good14
old souls, who, as they were juiced after taking their pledge over at15
the uncle's place, were evidently under the spell of liquor, from the16
wake of Tarry the Tailor a fair girl, a jolly postoboy thinking off17
three flagons and one, a plumodrole, a half sir from the weaver's18
almshouse who clings and clings and chatchatchat clings to her, a19
wholedam's cloudhued pittycoat, as child, as curiolater, as Caoch20
O'Leary. The wararrow went round, so it did, (a nation wants21
a gaze) and the ballad, in the felibrine trancoped metre affectioned22
by Taiocebo in his Casudas de Poulichinello Artahut, stump-23
stampaded on to a slip of blancovide and headed by an excessively24
rough and red woodcut, privately printed at the rimepress of25
Delville, soon fluttered its secret on white highway and brown26
byway to the rose of the winds and the blew of the gaels, from27
archway to lattice and from black hand to pink ear, village crying28
to village, through the five pussyfours green of the united states29
of Scotia Picta ? ? ?and he who denays it, may his hairs be rubbed30
in dirt! To the added strains (so peacifold) of his majesty the31
flute, that onecrooned king of inscrewments, Piggott's purest, ciello32
alsoliuto, which Mr Delaney (Mr Delacey?), horn, anticipating33
a perfect downpour of plaudits among the rapsods, piped34
out of his decentsoort hat, looking still more like his purseyful35
namesake as men of Gaul noted, but before of to sputabout, the36

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