BOOK: | I | II | III | IV |
|189 | 190 |191 |

of sweetempered gunpowdered didst unto dudst but it never1
stphruck your mudhead's obtundity (O hell, here comes our2
funeral! O pest, I'll miss the post!) that the more carrots you3
chop, the more turnips you slit, the more murphies you peel, the4
more onions you cry over, the more bullbeef you butch, the5
more mutton you crackerhack, the more potherbs you pound,6
the fiercer the fire and the longer your spoon and the harder you7
gruel with more grease to your elbow the merrier fumes your8
new Irish stew.9
    O, by the way, yes, another thing occurs to me. You let me tell 10
you, with the utmost politeness, were very ordinarily designed,11
your birthwrong was, to fall in with Plan, as our nationals12
should, as all nationists must, and do a certain office (what, I will13
not tell you) in a certain holy office (nor will I say where) during14
certain agonising office hours (a clerical party all to yourself) from15
such a year to such an hour on such and such a date at so and16
so much a week pro anno (Guinness's, may I remind, were just17
agulp for you, failing in which you might have taken the scales off18
boilers like any boskop of Yorek) and do your little thruppenny19
bit and thus earn from the nation true thanks, right here in our20
place of burden, your bourne of travail and ville of tares, where21
after a divine's prodigence you drew the first watergasp in your22
life, from the crib where you once was bit to the crypt you'll23
be twice as shy of, same as we, long of us, alone with the colt24
in the curner, where you were as popular as an armenial with25
the faithful, and you set fire to my tailcoat when I hold the26
paraffin smoker under yours (I hope that chimney's clear) but,27
slackly shirking both your bullet and your billet, you beat it28
backwards like Boulanger from Galway (but he combed the grass29
against his stride) to sing us a song of alibi, (the cuthone call over30
the greybounding slowrolling amplyheaving metamorphoseous31
that oozy rocks parapangle their preposters with) nomad, mooner32
by lamplight, antinos, shemming amid everyone's repressed33
laughter to conceal your scatchophily by mating, like a thorough-34
paste prosodite, masculine monosyllables of the same numerical35
mus, an Irish emigrant the wrong way out, sitting on your crooked36