BOOK: | I | II | III | IV |
|444 | 445 |446 |

striped conference here's how. Nerbu de Bios! If you twos goes1
to walk upon the railway, Gard, and I'll goad to beat behind the2
bush! See to it! Snip! It's up to you. I'll be hatsnatching harrier3
to hiding huries hinder hedge. Snap! I'll tear up your limpshades4
and lock all your trotters in the closet, I will, and cut your silk-5
skin into garters. You'll give up your ask unbrodhel ways when6
I make you reely smart. So skelp your budd and kiss the hurt!7
I'll have plenary sadisfaction, plays the bishop, for your partial's8
indulgences if your my rodeo gell. Fair man and foul suggestion.9
There's a lot of lecit pleasure coming bangslanging your way,10
Miss Pinpernelly satin. For your own good, you understand, for11
the man who lifts his pud to a woman is saving the way for12
kindness. You'll rebmemer your mottob Aveh Tiger Roma13
mikely smarter the nickst time. For I'll just draw my prancer14
and give you one splitpuck in the crupper, you understand, that15
will bring the poppy blush of shame to your peony hindmost till16
you yelp papapardon and radden your rhodatantarums to the17
beat of calorrubordolor, I am, I do and I suffer, (do you hear me18
now, lickspoon, and stop looking at your bussycat bow in the19
slate?) that you won't obliterate for the bulkier part of a running20
year, failing to give a good account of yourself, if you think I'm21
so tan cupid as all that. Lights out now (bouf!), tight and sleep22
on it. And that's how I'll bottle your greedypuss beautibus for23
ye, me bullin heifer, for 'tis I that have the peer of arrams that24
carry a wallop. Between them.25
    Unbeknownst to you would ire turn o'er see, a nuncio would 26
I return here. How (from the sublime to the ridiculous) times27
out of oft, my future, shall we think with deepest of love and28
recollection by rintrospection of thee but me far away on the29
pillow, breathing foundly o'er my names all through the empties,30
whilst moidhered by the rattle of the doppeldoorknockers. Our31
homerole poet to Ostelinda, Fred Wetherly, puts it somewhys32
better. You're sitting on me style, maybe, whereoft I helped33
your ore. Littlegame rumilie from Liffalidebankum, (Toobli-34
queme!) but a big corner fill you do in this unadulterated seat of35
our affections. Aerwenger's my breed so may we uncreepingly36