BOOK: | I | II | III | IV |
|203 | 204 |205 |

the freckled forehead. While you'd parse secheressa she hielt her1
souff'. But she ruz two feet hire in her aisne aestumation. And2
steppes on stilts ever since. That was kissuahealing with bantur3
for balm! O, wasn't he the bold priest? And wasn't she the4
naughty Livvy? Nautic Naama's now her navn. Two lads in5
scoutsch breeches went through her before that, Barefoot Burn6
and Wallowme Wade, Lugnaquillia's noblesse pickts, before she7
had a hint of a hair at her fanny to hide or a bossom to tempt a8
birch canoedler not to mention a bulgic porterhouse barge. And9
ere that again, leada, laida, all unraidy, too faint to buoy the10
fairiest rider, too frail to flirt with a cygnet's plume, she was licked11
by a hound, Chirripa-Chirruta, while poing her pee, pure and12
simple, on the spur of the hill in old Kippure, in birdsong and13
shearingtime, but first of all, worst of all, the wiggly livvly, she14
sideslipped out by a gap in the Devil's glen while Sally her nurse15
was sound asleep in a sloot and, feefee fiefie, fell over a spillway16
before she found her stride and lay and wriggled in all the stag-17
nant black pools of rainy under a fallow coo and she laughed18
innocefree with her limbs aloft and a whole drove of maiden19
hawthorns blushing and looking askance upon her.20
    Drop me the sound of the findhorn's name, Mtu or Mti, som- 21
bogger was wisness. And drip me why in the flenders was she22
frickled. And trickle me through was she marcellewaved or was23
it weirdly a wig she wore. And whitside did they droop their24
glows in their florry, aback to wist or affront to sea? In fear to25
hear the dear so near or longing loth and loathing longing? Are26
you in the swim or are you out? O go in, go on, go an! I mean27
about what you know. I know right well what you mean. Rother!28
You'd like the coifs and guimpes, snouty, and me to do the29
greasy jub on old Veronica's wipers. What am I rancing now30
and I'll thank you? Is it a pinny or is it a surplice? Arran, where's31
your nose? And where's the starch? That's not the vesdre bene-32
diction smell. I can tell from here by their eau de Colo and the33
scent of her oder they're Mrs Magrath's. And you ought to have34
aird them. They've moist come off her. Creases in silk they35
are, not crampton lawn. Baptiste me, father, for she has sinned!36