What does Coemghen? Tell his hidings clearly! A woodtoo-gooder. Is his moraltack still his best of weapons? How about a little more goaling goold? Rowlin's tun he gadder no must. It is the voice of Roga. His face is the face of a son. Be thine the silent hall, O Jarama! A virgin, the one, shall mourn thee. Roga's stream is solence. But Croona is in adestance. The ass of the O'Dwyer of Greyglens is abrowtobayse Afeald in his terroirs of the Potterton's Forecoroners, the reeks around the burleyhearthed. When visited by an indepondant Reporter, "Mike" Portlund, to burrow Burning the latterman's Resterant So is called the gortan in questure He mikes the fallowing for the Durban Gazette, Firstcoming issue. From a collispendent. Any were. Deemsday. Bosse of Upper and Lower Byggotstrade, Ciwareke, May he live for river! The Games funeral at Valleytemple. Saturnights pomps, Exhabiting that corricatore of a harss, Revealled by Oscur Camerad. The last of Dutch Schulds, perhumps. Pipe in Dream Cluse. Uncovers Pub History. The Outrage, at Length. Affected Mob Follows in Religious Sullivence. Rinvention of vestiges by which they drugged the buddhy. Moviefigure on in scenic section. By Patathicus. And there, from out of the scuity, Misty Londan, along the canavan route, That is with the years gone, Mild beam of the wave his polar bearing, Steerner among stars, trust touthena and you Tread true turf, Comes the sorter, Mr Hurr Hansen, Talking allthe-ways in himself of his hopes To fall in among a merryfoule of maidens Happynghome from the dance, His knyckle allaready in his knackskey fob, A passable compatriate proparly of the Grimstad galleon, old pairs frieze, feed up to the noxer with their geese And peeas and oats upon a trencher And the toyms he'd lust in Wooming But with that smeoil like a grace of backoning Over his egglips of the sunsoonshine. Here's heering you in a guessmasque, latterman! And such an improofment! As royt as the mail and as fat as a fuddle! Schoen! Shoan! Shoon the Puzt! A penny for your thought abouts! Tay, tibby, tanny, tummy, tasty, tosty, tay. Batch is for Baker who baxters our bread. O, what an ovenly odour! Butter butter! Bring us this days our maily bag! But receive me, my frensheets, From the emerald dark winterlong! For diss is the doss for Eilder Downes And dass is it duss, As singen sengers, What the hardworking straightwalking stoutstamping Securelysealing officials who trow To form our G.M.P.'s pass muster Generally shay for shee and sloo For slee when butting their headd To the pillow for a nightshared nakeshift With the alter girl they tuck in for sweepsake. Dutiful wealker for his hydes of march. Haves you the time. Hans ahike? Heard you the crime, senny boy? The man was giddy on letties On the dewry of the duary, be pursueded, Whethered with entrenous, midgreys, dagos, teatimes, shadows, Nocturnes or samoans, If wellstocked fillerouters plushfeverfraus With dopy chonks, And this, That and the other pigskin or muffle kinkles, Taking a pipe course or doing an anguish, Seen to his fleece in after his foull, When Dr Chart of Greet Chorsles street He changed his backbone at a citting. He had not the declaination, As what with the foos As whet with the fays, But so far as hanging a goobes On the precedings, Wherethen the lag allows, It mights be anything after darks. Which the deers alones they sees And the darkies they is snuffing of the wind up. Debbling. Greanteavvents! Hyacinssies with heliotrollops! Not once Fullvixen freakings and but dubbledecoys! It is a lable iction on The porte of the cuthulic church And summum most atole for it. Where is that blinketey blanketer, That quound of a pealer, The sunt of a hunt whant foxes good men! Where or he, Our loved Among many?