| 27 | ||
|---|---|---|
| after Tom Bowe Glassarse or Timmy the Tosser. 'Tisraely the | 1 | |
| truth! No isn't it, roman pathoricks? You were the doublejoynted | 2 | |
| janitor the morning they were delivered and you'll be a grandfer | 3 | |
| yet entirely when the ritehand seizes what the lovearm knows. | 4 | |
| Kevin's just a doat with his cherub cheek, chalking oghres on | 5 | |
| walls, and his little lamp and schoolbelt and bag of knicks, playing | 6 | |
| postman's knock round the diggings and if the seep were milk | 7 | |
| you could lieve his olde by his ide but, laus sake, the devil does | 8 | |
| be in that knirps of a Jerry sometimes, the tarandtan plaidboy, | 9 | |
| making encostive inkum out of the last of his lavings and writing | 10 | |
| a blue streak over his bourseday shirt. Hetty Jane's a child of | 11 | |
| Mary. She'll be coming (for they're sure to choose her) in her | 12 | |
| white of gold with a tourch of ivy to rekindle the flame on Felix | 13 | |
| Day. But Essie Shanahan has let down her skirts. You remember | 14 | |
| Essie in our Luna's Convent? They called her Holly Merry her | 15 | |
| lips were so ruddyberry and Pia de Purebelle when the redminers | 16 | |
| riots was on about her. Were I a clerk designate to the Williams- | 17 | |
| woodsmenufactors I'd poster those pouters on every jamb in the | 18 | |
| town. She's making her rep at Lanner's twicenightly. With the | 19 | |
| tabarine tamtammers of the whirligigmagees. Beats that cachucha | 20 | |
| flat. 'Twould dilate your heart to go. | 21 | |
| Aisy now, you decent man, with your knees and lie quiet and | 22 | |
| repose your honour's lordship! Hold him here, Ezekiel Irons, and | 23 | |
| may God strengthen you! It's our warm spirits, boys, he's spoor- | 24 | |
| ing. Dimitrius O'Flagonan, cork that cure for the Clancartys ! You | 25 | |
| swamped enough since Portobello to float the Pomeroy. Fetch | 26 | |
| neahere, Pat Koy! And fetch nouyou, Pam Yates! Be nayther | 27 | |
| angst of Wramawitch! Here's lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, | 28 | |
| where misches lodge none, where mystries pour kind on, O | 29 | |
| sleepy! So be yet! | 30 | |
| I've an eye on queer Behan and old Kate and the butter, trust me. | 31 | |
| She'll do no jugglywuggly with her war souvenir postcards to | 32 | |
| help to build me murial, tippers! I'll trip your traps! Assure a | 33 | |
| sure there! And we put on your clock again, sir, for you. Did or | 34 | |
| didn't we, sharestutterers? So you won't be up a stump entirely. | 35 | |
| Nor shed your remnants. The sternwheel's crawling strong. I | 36 |
*** Reading-Group – Germany / Rhein/Main / Hochtaunus ***