BOOK: | I | II | III | IV |
|248 | 249 |250 |

prawn while I go squirt with any cockle. When here who adolls1
me infuxes sleep. But if this could see with its backsight he'd2
be the grand old greeneyed lobster. He's my first viewmarc since3
Valentine. Wink's the winning word.4
    Luck! 5
    In the house of breathings lies that word, all fairness. The walls 6
are of rubinen and the glittergates of elfinbone. The roof herof is7
of massicious jasper and a canopy of Tyrian awning rises and8
still descends to it. A grape cluster of lights hangs therebeneath9
and all the house is filled with the breathings of her fairness, the10
fairness of fondance and the fairness of milk and rhubarb and the11
fairness of roasted meats and uniomargrits and the fairness of12
promise with consonantia and avowals. There lies her word, you13
reder! The height herup exalts it and the lowness her down aba-14
seth it. It vibroverberates upon the tegmen and prosplodes from15
pomoeria. A window, a hedge, a prong, a hand, an eye, a sign, a16
head and keep your other augur on her paypaypay. And you have17
it, old Sem, pat as ah be seated! And Sunny, my gander, he's18
coming to land her. The boy which she now adores. She dores.19
Oh backed von dem zug! Make weg for their tug!20
    With a ring ding dong, they raise clasped hands and advance 21
more steps to retire to the saum. Curtsey one, curtsey two, with22
arms akimbo, devotees.23
    Irrelevance. 24
    All sing: 25
          I rose up one maypole morning and saw in my glass how 26
nobody loves me but you. Ugh. Ugh.27
    All point in the shem direction as if to shun. 28
      My name is Misha Misha but call me Toffey Tough. I29
mean Mettenchough. It was her, boy the boy that was loft in the30
larch. Ogh! Ogh!31
    Her reverence. 32
    All laugh. 33
    They pretend to helf while they simply shauted at him sauce to 34
make hims prich. And ith ith noth cricquette, Sally Lums. Not35
by ever such a lot. Twentynines of bloomers gegging een man36