ne continuous
present  tense  integument  slowly  unfolded  all  marryvoising  moodmoulded
cyclewheeling history (thereby, he said, reflecting from his own  individual
person  life   unlivable,  transaccidentated  through  the  slow   fires  of
consciousness into a dividual  chaos,  perilous, potent, common to allflesh,
human  only,  mortal) but  with  each  word  that  would  not  pass away the
squidself  which  he  had squirtscreened from the  crystalline  world  waned
chagreenold and  doriangrayer in  its  dudhud. This  exists that isits after
having  been said we know.  And  dabal  take  dabnal! And the dal  dabal dab
aldanabal!  So perhaps,  agglaggagglomeratively  asaspenking, after  all and
arklast fore arklyst on his last public  misappearance, circling the square,
for the  deathf?te  of Saint Ignaceous Poisonivy, of the Fickle Crowd (hopon
the sexth day of Hogsober, killim our king, layum low !) and brandishing his
bellbearing stylo,  the  shining keyman of  the  wilds of change, if what is
sauce  for the zassy is souse for the zazimas,the blond  cop who  thought it
was ink was out of his depth but bright in the main.
     Petty  constable  Sistersen  of  the   Kruis-Kroon-Kraal  it  was,  the
parochial  watch, big  the  dog  the  dig the bog  the bagger the dugger the
begadag degabug, who  had been  detailed from pollute stoties  to  save him,
this the quemquem, that the quum,  from the ligatureliablous effects of foul
clay in  little  clots  and  mobmauling  on  looks, that wrongcountered  the
tenderfoot an  eveling near the livingsmeansuniumgetherum, Knockmaree, Comty
Mea, reeling more to the right than he lurched to the left, on  his way from
a protoprostitute (he would always have a (stp!) little  pigeoness somewhure
with his arch girl, Arcoiris, smockname of Mergyt) just as he was butting in
rand the coyner of bad times under a hideful between the rival doors of warm
bethels of  worship through his boardelhouse fongster, greeting for grazious
oras as usual: Where ladies  have they that  a  dog meansort herring? Sergo,
search me, the incapable reparteed with a selfevitant  subtlety so obviously
spurious and, raising his hair, after the  grace, with  the christmas  under
his  clutcharm,  for   Portsymasser  and  Purtsymessus  and  Pertsymiss  and
Partsymasters,  like a  prance of findingos, with a  shillto shallto  slipny
stripny, in he skittled. Swikey! The  allwhite  poors guardiant, pulpably of
balltossic stummung, was literally astundished over the painful sake, how he
burstteself, which  he was gone to, where he intent to  did he,  whether you
think will, wherend the whole current of the afternoon whats the souch  of a
surch hads of hits of hims, urged and staggered thereto  in his countryports
at the caledosian capacity for Lieutuvisky of the caftan's wineskin and even
more so,  during, looking his bigmost astonishments, it was said him, aschu,
fun the  concerned  outgift of the dead med  dirt, how that, arrahbejibbers,
conspuent  to the dominical order and exking noblish permish, he  was namely
coon  at  bringer at home two  gallonts,as per royal,full  poultry  till his
murder. Nip up and nab it!
     Polthergeistkotzdondherhoploits  !  Kick? What  mother?  Whose  porter?
Which pair? Why namely coon? But our undilligence has been plutherotested so
enough of such porterblack lowneess, too  base for printink! Perpending that
Putterick O'Purcell  pulls the coald stoane  out of Winterwater's and Silder
Seas  sing  for Harreng  our Keng,sept  okt nov dez John  Phibbs  march!  We
cannot,in mercy or justice nor on the lovom for labaryntos,stay here for the
residence of our existings,discussing Tamstar Ham of Tenman's thirst.
     JUSTIUS (to himother): Brawn is my name and broad is my nature and I've
breit on my brow and all's right with every feature and I'll brune this bird
or Brown Bess's bung's gone bandy. I'm the boy to bruise and braise. Baus!
     Stand  forth,  Nayman  of Noland  (for  no  longer  will  I follow  you
obliquelike through the inspired form of  the third person singular  and the
moods and  hesitensies of the deponent but  address  myself to you, with the
empirative  of my vendettative, provocative  and  out direct), stand  forth,
come boldly, jolly me,-- move me, zwilling though I am, to  laughter in your
true colours ere you  be back for  ever till I give you your talkingto! Shem
Macadamson, you know me and  I  know you and all your  shemeries. Where have
you  been  in the uterim,  enjoying yourself all the morning since your last
wetbed confession? I advise you to  conceal yourself, my little friend, as I
have said a moment ago and put your hands in my  hands and have a nightslong
homely little confiteor about things. Let me see. It is looking pretty black
against you, we suggest, Sheem avick. You  will need all the elements in the
river to  clean  you over it  all  and a  fortifine popespriestpower bull of
attender to booth.
     Let us  pry.  We thought, would and did.  Cur, quicquid,  ubi,  quando,
quomodo, quoties, quibus auxiliis? You were bred, fed, fostered and fattened
from holy childhood up in this two easter island  on the piejaw of hilarious
heaven  and roaring  the  other place (plunders  to  night of you,  blunders
what's left of  you, flash  as flash can!) and now, forsooth, a nogger among
the blankards of  this dastard century, you have become  of twosome twiminds
forenenst gods, hidden and discovered, nay, condemned fool, anarch, egoarch,
hiresiarch, you have reared your disunited kingdom on the vacuum of your own
most intensely doubtful soul.  Do you hold yourself then for some god in the
manger,  Shehohem, that you will neither  serve not  let serve, pray nor let
pray? And here, pay the piety, must I too nerve myself to pray  for the loss
of selfrespect to equip me for the  horrible  necessity of scandalisang  (my
dear sisters, are you ready?)  by sloughing off my hope and tremors while we
all swin together in the pool of  Sodom? I shall  shiver for my purity while
they will weepbig for your sins. Away  with covered words, new  Solemonities
for old  Badsheetbaths!  That  inharmonious detail, did you  name  it?  Cold
caldor!  Gee! Victory! Now, opprobro of underslung pipes, johnjacobs,  while
yet an adolescent (what do I say?), while still puerile in your tubsuit with
buttonlegs,you  got  a  handsome  present  of a selfraising syringe and twin
feeders (you know,  Monsieur Abgott, in your  art of  arts,  to your cost as
well as I  do (and don't try to hide it) the penals lots I am now poking at)
and the wheeze sort of  was you should (if you were as bould a stroke now as
the curate that christened you, sonny douth-the-candle!) repopulate the land
of your birth and count up your progeny by the hungered head and the angered
thousand but you thwarted the wious  pish of your  cogodparents, soph, among
countless occasions of  failing (for, said you, I will elenchate), adding to
the malice of your transgression,  yes, and changing its nature, (you  see I
have read your theology for you) alternating the morosity of my delectations
-- a philtred  love, trysting by  tantrums, small peace in ppenmark --  with
sensibility,  sponsibility,  passibility  and  prostability, your  lubbock's
other  fear pleasures  of a butler's life,  even  extruding  your strabismal
apologia, when legibly depressed, upon defenceless paper and thereby  adding
to the  already unhappiness of this  our popeyed world, scribblative! -- all
that too with cantreds of countless catchaleens, the mannish  as many as the
minneful, congested around and about  you for acres and roods and  poles  or
perches, thick  as  the  fluctuant  sands of Chalwador, accomplished  women,
indeed  fully educanded, far from being old and  rich behind their  dream of
arrivisme, if they  have only their  honour left, and  not  deterred  by bad
weather when consumed by amorous  passion, struggling to  possess themselves
of your boosh, one son of Sorge for all daughters of Anguish, solus cum sola
sive  cuncties cum  omnibobs  (I'd have been the best man for  you, myself),
mutely aying for hat natural knot, debituary  vases or vessels preposterous,
for what would not have cost you ten bolivars of collarwork or the price  of
one ping pang, just a lilt, let  us trillt,  of the oldest song in the wooed
woodworld, (two-we! to-one!), accompanied by a plain gold band!  Hail! Hail!
Highbosomheaving    Missmisstress    Morna    of    the   allsweetheartening
bridemuredemeanour! Her eye's  so gladsome we'll all take shares in the ----
groom!
     Sniffer of carrion, premature gravedigger, seeker  of the nest  of evil
in the bosom of a good word, you, who sleep at our  vigil and  fast for  our
feast,  you with your dislocated  reason,  have cutely foretold, a jophet in
your  own absence, by  blind  poring upon  your many scalds  and  burns  and
blisters, impetiginous  sore  and  pustules, by  the auspices of that  raven
cloud,  your shade, and  by the  auguries  of rooks in parlament, death with
every disaster, the dynamitisation of colleagues, the reducing of records to
ashes, the levelling  of  all  customs by  blazes, the return  of  a  lot of
sweetempered  gunpowdered didst  unto  dudst  but  it  never  stphruck  your
mudhead's obtundity (O  hell, here  comes our funeral! O pest, I'll miss the
post!) that the more carrots you chop, the more turnips you slit,  the  more
murphies  you  peel,  the more onions  you cry over,  the more  bullbeef you
butch, the more mutton you crackerhack,  the more  potherbs  you pound,  the
fiercer the  fire and the longer  your spoon and  the harder you  gruel with
more grease to your elbow the merrier fumes your new Irish stew.
     O, by  the  way,  yes,another thing occurs  to me. You let me tell you,
with  the utmost politeness, were very  ordinarily designed, your birthwrong
was,  to fall in with Plan, as our nationals should, as all nationists must,
and do a certain office (what, I will not tell you) in a certain holy office
(nor  will  I say where)  during  certain agonising office hours (a clerical
party all to yourself) from such a year to such  an hour  on such and such a
date at so and so much a week pro anno (Guinness's, may I remind, were  just
agulp for you,  failing in which you might have taken the scales off boilers
like any boskop of Yorek)  and do your little  thruppenny bit and  thus earn
from the nation true thanks, right here in our place of burden, your  bourne
of travail and ville  of  tares, where after a  divine's prodigence you drew
the  first watergasp in your life, from the  crib where  you once was bit to
the crypt you'll be twice as shy of, same as we, long  of us, alone with the
colt in the curner,  where  you  were  as  popular as an  armenial with  the
faithful, and you set  fire to my tailcoat when I  hold  the paraffin smoker
under yours  (I hope that  chimney's clear) but, slackly shirking both  your
bullet and your billet, you  beat  it backwards  like  Boulanger from Galway
(but he combed the  grass against his  stride)  to sing us a song  of alibi,
(the   cuthone   call   over  the   greybounding  slowrolling   amplyheaving
metamorphoseous that oozy  rocks  parapangle  their preposters  with) nomad,
mooner by lamplight, antinos, shemming amid everyone's repressed laughter to
conceal  your  scatchophily  by  mating,  like  a  thoroughpaste  prosodite,
masculine  monosyllables of the  same numerical  mus, an  Irish emigrant the
wrong way  out, sitting on  your crooked sixpenny  stile,  an unfrillfrocked
quackfriar,  you (will you for the laugh of Scheekspair just  help mine with
the epithet?) semisemitic serendipitist, you (thanks, I think that describes
you) Europasianised Afferyank!
     Shall we follow  each others a steplonger,  drowner  of daggers, whiles
our liege,  tilyet a stranger in the frontyard of his happiness, is  taking,
(heal  helper!  one  gob,  one  gap,  one  gulp  and  gorger  of  all!)  his
refreshment?
     There grew up  beside you,amid our  orisons of the speediest. in Novena
Lodge,  Novara Avenue, in Patripodium-am-Bummel,  oaf, outofwork, one remove
from  an  unwashed savage, on his keeping and in yours, (I pose you know why
possum  hides  is   cause  he  haint   the  nogumtreeumption)   that  other,
Immaculatus, from head to foot, sir,  that pure one, Altrues of other times,
he who  was  well  known  to  celestine  circles  before he sped aloft,  our
handsome young spiritual physician that  was to be, seducing  every sense to
selfwilling celebesty, the most winning  counterfeuille  on our  incomeshare
lotetree, a  chum of the  angelets, a  youth  those  reporters  so pettitily
wanted  as gamefellow that they asked his mother  for ittle earps brupper to
let  him tome to Tindertarten? pease,  and bing his scooter  'long and 'tend
they were all real brothers in the big justright home where Dodd lives, just
to teddyfy the life out of him and pat and pass him one with other like musk
from hand to  hand, that mothersmothered model, that goodlooker  with not  a
flaw whose spiritual toilettes were  the talk of  half  the town, for sunset
wear and nightfallen use and daybroken donning and nooncheon showing and the
very  thing for teasetime, but him  you laid low with one hand  one fine May
morning in the Meddle  of your Might, your bosom foe, because he mussed your
speller  on  you  or because he  cut a pretty figure in the  focus  of  your
frontispecs (not one did you slay, no, but a continent!) to find out how his
innards worked !
     Ever read  of that greatgrand landfather of our visionbuilders, Baaboo,
the bourgeoismeister, who thought to touch  both himmels  at the punt of his
risen stiffstaff  and  how wishywashy  sank the waters of  his thought? Ever
thought  of that  hereticalist Marcon and  the  two  scissymaidies  and  how
bulkily  he shat  the Ructions gunorrhal?  Ever hear of that foxy, that lupo
and that monkax and the virgin heir of the Morrisons, eh, blethering ape?
     Malingerer in luxury, collector general, what has Your Lowness  done in
the  mealtime with all the  hamilkcars  of cooked vegetables, the hatfuls of
stewed fruit, the  suitcases of coddled ales, the Parish  funds, me schamer,
man, that you kittycoaxed so flexibly out of charitable butteries by yowling
heavy with a  hollow voice drop of your horrible awful poverty of mind so as
you couldn't even pledge a crown of Thorne's to pawn a coat off Trevi's  and
as how you was bad no end, so you was, so  whelp you Sinner Pitre and Sinner
Poule, with  the chicken's gape and  pas mal de  si?cle,  which, by  the by,
Reynaldo,  is the ordinary emetic French  for grenadier's  drip. To  let you
have your plank and your bonewash (O the hastroubles you lost!), to give you
your  pound  of  platinum  and  a  thousand  thongs  a  year  (O,  you  were
excruciated, in honour bound to the cross of your own cruelfiction !) to let
you have your Sarday spree and holinight sleep (fame would come to you twixt
a sleep and a wake) and leave  to lie till Paraskivee and the cockcock crows
for  Danmark.  (O Jonathan,  your  estomach!) The  simian  has no  sentiment
secretions but weep  cataracts  for all  me,  Pain the  Shamman! Oft  in the
smelly night will they wallow for a clutch of the famished hand, I say, them
bearded  jezabelles  you  hired  to rob  you,  while  on your  sodden  straw
impolitely you  encored  (Airish  and  nawboggaleesh!) those  hornmade ivory
dreams you reved of the Ruth you called your companionate, a beauty from the
bible, of the  flushpots  of Euston  and the hanging garments of Marylebone.
But the dormer moonshee smiled selene and the lightthrowers knickered: who's
whinging  we? Comport yourself,  you  inconsistency!  Where  is that  little
alimony  nestegg against  our  predictable  rainy day? Is it  not  the  fact
(gainsay  me,  cakeeater!) that, while whistlewhirling  your  crazy  elegies
around Templetombmount joyntstone, (let him pass,  pleasegoodjesusalem, in a
bundle  of  straw, he  was balbettised after haymaking) you squandered among
underlings  the  overload  of  your extravagance  and  made a  hottentot  of
dulpeners crawsick with your crumbs? Am I not right? Yes? Yes? Yes? Holy wax
and holifer! Don't tell me, Leon of the fold, that you are not a  loanshark!
Look  up,  old sooty, be advised  by  mux and take  your medicine.  The Good
Doctor mulled it. Mix  it twice before repastures  and  powder three times a
day. It does marvels for your gripins and it's fine for the solitary worm.
     Let me finish! Just a little judas tonic, my ghem of all jokes, to make
you go green in the gazer. Do you hear what I'm seeing, hammet? And remember
that golden silence  gives consent, Mr Anklegazer! Cease to  be civil, learn
to say nay! Whisht! Come here, Herr Studiosus, till I tell you a wig in your
ear.  We'll  do a whisper drive, for if the barishnyas  got a twitter of  it
they'd tell the housetops and  then all Cadbury would  go crackers. Look! Do
you see your dial in the rockingglass?  Look well ! Bend down a stigmy  till
I! It's secret! Iggri, I say,  the booseleers! I had it from Lamppost Shawe.
And he had  it from the Mullah. And Mull  took  it from a Bluecoat schooler.
And  Gay Socks  jot it from  Potapheu's  wife. And Rantipoll tipped the wink
from old  Mrs  Tinbullet.  And  as  for she  was  confussed  by  pro-Brother
Thacolicus. And the good brother  feels  he would need to  defecate you. And
the Flimsy Follettes  are simply  beside  each  other. And Kelly,  Kenny and
Keogh  are up  up and in arms. That  a cross  may  crush  me if  I refuse to
believe in it. That I may rock anchor  through the ages  if I hope  it's not
true. That the host may choke  me if  I beneighbour you without  my charity!
Sh! Shem, you are. Sh! You are mad!
     He  points the  deathbone  and the  quick  are still.  Insomnia, somnia
somniorum. Awmawm.
     MERCIUS (of hisself):  Domine vopiscus! My fault, his fault, a kingship
through a fault! Pariah, cannibal Cain, I who oathily forswore the womb that
bore you and the paps I sometimes  sucked, you who ever  since have been one
black mass  of  jigs and jimjams, haunted  by a convulsionary  sense of  not
having been or being all that  I might  have  been or you meant to becoming,
bewailing like a man that  innocence  which I could not defend like a woman,
lo,you there, Cathmon-Carbery, and thank Movies from the innermost depths of
my still attrite  heart,Wherein  the days of youyouth  are evermixed mimine,
now ere the compline hour of being alone  athands itself and  a  puff or  so
before we yield our spiritus to the wind, for (though that royal one has not
yet drunk a gouttelette from his consummation and the flowerpot on the pole,
the spaniel pack and their quarry, retainers and the public house proprietor
have  not budged a millimetre and all that has been done  has yet to be done
and done  again, when's day's  woe, and lo, you're doomed, joyday dawns and,
la,  you  dominate)  it  is to  you, firstborn and firstfruit of woe, to me,
branded sheep, pick of  the  wasterpaperbaskel,  by the tremours of Thundery
and  Ulerin's  dogstar, you  alone,  windblasted  tree  of the  knowledge of
beautiful andevil, ay, clothed upon with the  metuor and shimmering like the
horescens, astroglodynamonologos, the child of Nilfit's  father, blzb, to me
unseen blusher in an  obscene  coalhole,  the cubilibum of your secret sigh,
dweller  in the  downandoutermost where voice  only of  the  dead  may come,
because ye left from me,  because ye laughed on me, because, O me lonly son,
ye are  forgetting  me!, that  our  turfbrown  mummy  is  acoming,  alpilla,
beltilla, ciltilla, deltilla, running with her tidings, old  the news of the
great  big world, sonnies had a scrap, woewoewoe! bab's baby  walks at seven
months, waywayway ! bride leaves her raid at Punchestime, stud stoned before
a racecourseful, two belles that  make the one appeal, dry yanks will  visit
old  sod, and  fourtiered  skirts  are up, mesdames,  while Parimiknie wears
popular short legs, and twelve hows  to mix a  tipsy wake, did ye hear, colt
Cooney? did ye ever, filly Fortescue?  with a  beck, with  a spring, all her
rillringlets shaking, rocks drops in her tachie, tramtokens in her hair, all
waived  to  a point and  then all  inuendation,  little  oldfashioned mummy,
little  wonderful  mummy, ducking  under  bridges,  bellhopping  the  weirs,
dodging by a bit of bog, rapidshooting round  the bends, by Tallaght's green
hills and the pools of  the phooka  and a place they call it Blessington and
slipping sly by Sallynoggin, as happy as the day is wet, babbling, bubbling,
chattering to herself, deloothering the fields on  their elbows leaning with
the sloothering slide of her, giddygaddy, grannyma, gossipaceous Anna Livia.
     He lifts the lifewand and the dumb speak.
     -- Quoiquoiquoiquoiquoiquoiquoiq!

        Chapter 8

     O tell me all about
     Anna Livia!  I want to hear  all  about Anna Livia. Well, you know Anna
Livia? Yes, of course,  we  all  know Anna  Livia. Tell me all. Tell me now.
You'll die when  you hear. Well, you know, when the  old cheb went futt  and
did what you know. Yes, I know, go on. Wash quit and don't be dabbling. Tuck
up  your  sleeves and loosen your talktapes. And don't butt  me  -- hike! --
when you bend. Or whatever it was they  threed to make out  he thried to two
in the Fiendish  park. He's an awful old reppe. Look at  the shirt of him  !
Look at the dirt of it! He has all my water black on me. And it steeping and
stuping since this time last wik. How many  goes is it I wonder I washed it?
I know  by  heart the places he likes to saale, duddurty devil! Scorching my
hand and starving my famine to make his private linen public. Wallop it well
with  your battle and clean  it. My wrists are wrusty  rubbing  the  mouldaw
stains. And the dneepers of wet and the gangres of sin in it! What was it he
did a tail  at all  on Animal  Sendai? And how long  was he  under  loch and
neagh?  It was put in  the  newses what he  did, nicies and priers, the King
fierceas  Humphrey, with illysus distilling, exploits and all. But toms will
till.  I  know he  well. Temp untamed will hist for no man. As you spring so
shall you neap. O, the roughty old rappe!  Minxing marrage and  making loof.
Reeve Gootch was right and Reeve Drughad was sinistrous! And the cut of him!
And the strut of him! How he used  to hold his head as high as a howeth, the
famous eld duke alien, with a hump of  grandeur on him like a walking wiesel
rat.  And  his derry's  own drawl and his corksown blather  and his doubling
stutter and his gullaway swank. Ask Lictor  Hackett or Lector Reade of Garda
Growley  or the Boy with  the Billyclub. How elster  is he a  called at all?
Qu'appelle? Huges Caput Earlyfouler. Or where  was he  born or  how  was  he
found?  Urgothland, Tvistown on  the  Kattekat? New Hunshire, Concord on the
Merrimake? Who blocksmitt her saft anvil or yelled lep to her pail?  Was her
banns never  loosened  in Adam  and  Eve's or were him  and  her but captain
spliced? For mine ether duck I thee drake. And by my wildgaze I thee gander.
Flowey and  Mount on  the brink of time  makes wishes and fears for  a happy
isthmass. She can show all her  lines,  with love, license  to  play. And if
they  don't  remarry  that  hook and eye  may !  O, passmore that  and  oxus
another! Don Dom Dombdomb and his  wee follyo! Was his help inshored in  the
Stork and Pelican against bungelars,  flu and third risk parties? I heard he
dug good tin with his doll, delvan first and duvlin after, when he raped her
home, Sabrine asthore, in a parakeet's cage, by dredgerous lands and devious
delts, playing  catched  and mythed with the gleam of her shadda, (if a flic
had been there to pop up and pepper him!) past auld  min's manse and Maisons
Allfou and the rest of  incurables and  the last of  immurables, the  quaggy
waag for stumbling. Who sold you that jackalantern's tale? Pemmican's  pasty
pie! Not a grasshoop to ring her, not an  antsgrain of ore. In a  gabbard he
barqued it, the boat of life,  from the harbourless Ivernikan Okean, till he
spied  the loom of his landfall  and  he loosed two croakers from under  his
tilt, the gran Phenician rover.  By  the smell  of her  kelp  they made  the
pigeonhouse.  Like fun they did! But where was Himself,  the timoneer?  That
marchantman he suivied their  scutties  right over  the wash, his cameleer's
burnous breezing up on him, till with  his runagate  bowmpriss  he roade and
borst  her  bar.  Pilcomayo! Suchcaughtawan! And  the whale's  away with the
grayling!  Tune your  pipes  and  fall ahumming, you born ijypt, and  you're
nothing  short of one! Well,  ptellomey soon and curb your escumo. When they
saw him shoot swift up her  sheba sheath,  like  any gay  lord  salomon, her
bulls they were  ruhring, surfed  with spree. Boyarka  buah!  Boyana bueh~He
erned his lille  Bunbath  hard, our staly bred, the trader. He did. Look  at
here. In this wet of his prow. Don't you  know he was kaldt a  bairn  of the
brine,  Wasserbourne  the  waterbaby?  Havemmarea,  so he was! H.C.E.  has a
codfisck ee. Shyr  she's nearly as  badher as  him herself. Who? Anna Livia?
Ay, Anna Livia. Do you know she was calling bakvandets sals from all around,
nyumba noo, chamba choo, to go in till him, her erring cheef, and tickle the
pontiff aisy-oisy?  She was? Gota  pot! Yssel  that the limmat?  As El Negro
winced when  he wonced in  La Plate. O, tell me all I want to hear, how loft
she was lift a laddery dextro ! A coneywink after the bunting  fell. Letting
on  she didn't  care, sina  feza,  me absantee,  him man in  passession, the
proxenete! Proxenete and phwhat is phthat?  Emme for your reussischer Honddu
jarkon! Tell us  in franca langua. And  call a spate a spate. Did they never
sharee you ebro at skol, you antiabecedarian? It's just the same as if I was
to  go par  examplum  now  in  conservancy's  cause out  of telekinesis  and
proxenete you. For coxyt sake and  is that what she is? Botlettle  I thought
she'd act that loa.  Didn't you spot  her in her windaug, wubbling up on  an
osiery chair,  with a meusic before her all cunniform letters, pretending to
ribble a reedy derg on a fiddle she bogans without a band on? Sure she can't
fiddan a  dee,  with bow or abandon!  Sure,  she can't! Tista suck.  Well, I
never now heard the like of that!  Tell me moher. Tell me moatst.  Well, old
Humber  was as glommen as grampus, with the tares at his thor and the buboes
for ages and neither bowman nor shot abroad and bales allbrant on the crests
of rockies and nera lamp in kitchen or church and giant's holes in Grafton's
causeway and deathcap mushrooms round Funglus  grave and the great tribune's
barrow  all  darnels  occumule,  sittang  sambre  on his sett,  drammen  and
drommen,  usking  queasy  quizzers of his ruful  continence,  his childlinen
scarf  to  encourage  his  obsequies where  he'd check their debths  in that
mormon's thames, be questing and handsetl, hop, step and a deepend, with his
berths in their toiling moil, his swallower open  from swolf to fore and the
snipes of the gutter pecking his crocs, hungerstriking all alone and holding
doomsdag over hunselv, dreeing his weird, with his dander up, and his fringe
combed  over his  eygs  and droming on loft  till the sight  of the sternes,
after zwarthy kowse and weedy broeks and  the tits of buddy and the loits of
pest  and to  peer was Parish worth thette  mess. You'd think  all  was dodo
belonging to him how he durmed adranse in durance vaal. He had been belching
for severn years.  And there  she was, Anna Livia, she darent catch a winkle
of sleep,  purling around like a chit of a child, Wendawanda, a fingerthick,
in a Lapsummer  skirt and damazon cheeks,  for to  ishim bonzour to her dear
dubber Dan.  With neuphraties  and sault from his  maggias. And an  odd time
she'd cook him up blooms of fisk and lay to his heartsfoot her meddery eygs,
yayis,  and staynish beacons  on toasc  and a  cupenhave  so  weeshywashy of
Greenland's tay or a dzoupgan of Kaffue  mokau  an sable or Sikiang sukry or
his ale  of ferns in trueart pewter and a shinkobread (hamjambo, bana?)  for
to  plaise that man  hog stay  his stomicker till her  pyrraknees  shrunk to
nutmeg graters  while her togglejoints shuck with goyt and as rash as  she'd
russ with her peakload of vivers up on her sieve (metauwero  rage it  swales
and rieses) my hardey Hek he'd  kast them frome him, with a  stour of scorn,
as much as to say you sow and you sozh, and if he didn't peg the platteau on
her tawe, believe you me, she was safe enough. And then she'd esk to vistule
a hymn, The Heart Bowed Down or The Rakes of Mallow  or Chelli Michele's  La
Calumnia ? un Vermicelli or a balfy bit ov old Jo Robidson.  Sucho fuffing a
fifeing  'twould cut you in  two!  She'd  bate the  hen that crowed  on  the
turrace of Babbel. What harm if she knew how to cockle her mouth ! And not a
mag  out  of  Hum no more  than out of  the mangle  weight. Is that a faith?
That's the fact. Then  riding the ricka and  roya romanche, Annona, gebroren
aroostokrat Nivia, dochter of  Sense and Art, with Sparks' pirryphlickathims
funkling  her fan, anner frostivying  tresses dasht  with virevlies,-- while
the  prom  beauties sreeked nith their  bearers' skins!--in a period gown of
changeable jade that would robe the wood of two cardinals'  chairs and crush
poor Cullen and smother MacCabe.  O blazerskate! Theirs  porpor patches! And
brahming to him  down the  feedchute,  with her femtyfyx  kinds of  fondling
endings,  the  poother  rambling off  her nose:  Vuggybarney,  Wickerymandy!
Hello, ducky, please don't die! Do you know what she started cheeping after,
with a choicey voicey like waterglucks or Madame Delba to Romeoreszk? You'll
never guess. Tell me. Tell me. Phoebe, dearest, tell,  O tell me and I loved
you better nor you knew. And letting on hoon var daft about the warbly sangs
from  over holmen: High hellskirt saw ladies hensmoker  lilyhung pigger: and
soay and  soan  and  so firth  and so forth in a tone sonora and  Oom Bothar
below like Bheri-Bheri in his sandy  cloak, so umvolosy, as  deaf as a yawn,
the  stult! Go away! Poor deef  old deary! Yare only teasing!  Anna  Liv? As
chalk is  my judge! And didn't she  up in sorgues and go and trot  doon  and
stand in  her douro, puffing her old dudheen, and every shirvant siligirl or
wensum  farmerette walking the pilend roads, Sawy, Fundally, Daery or Maery,
Milucre, Awny or Graw, usedn't she make her a simp or sign to slip inside by
the sullyport? You don't say, the sillypost? Bedouix but I do!  Calling them
in, one by one (To Blockbeddum here! Here the Shoebenacaddie!) and legging a
jig or so on the sihl to show them how to shake their benders and the dainty
how to bring to mind the gladdest garments out of sight and all the way of a
maid  with a man and making a sort of a cackling noise like two and  a penny
or half a crown and holding  up a silliver shiner. Lordy, lordy, did she so?
Well, of all  the ones ever I heard! Throwing all the neiss little whores in
the  world at  him! To inny captured wench you wish of no matter what sex of
pleissful ways  two adda tammar  a lizzy a lossie  to  hug and hab  haven in
Humpy's apron!
     And what was the wyerye rima she made! Odet! Odet! Tell me the trent of
it while I'm lathering hail out of Denis Florence MacCarthy's  combies. Rise
it, flut  ye, pian piena! I'm dying down  off my iodine feet  until I lerryn
Anna Livia's cushingloo, that was writ by one and rede by two and trouved by
a poule in the parco! I  can  see that, I  see you  are. How does it tummel?
Listen now. Are you listening? Yes, yes ! Idneed I am ! Tarn your ore ouse !
Essonne inne !
     By earth end  the cloudy  but I badly went e brandnew  bankside, bedamp
and I do, and a plumper at that!
     For the  putty affair I  have is wore out, so it is, sitting,yaping and
waiting  for my old  Dane  hodder  dodderer,  my life in death companion, my
frugal key of our larder,  my much-altered camel's hump, my jointspoiler, my
maymoon's honey, my  fool to the last Decemberer, to wake himself out of his
winter's doze and bore me down like he used to.
     Is there irwell a lord of the manor or a knight of the shire at strike,
I wonder, that'd  dip me a dace or  two in cash  for washing and darning his
worshipful socks for him now we're run out of horsebrose and milk?
     Only for my short  Brittas bed made's as snug as it smells it's out I'd
lep and off  with me to the  slobs  deua Tolka or the  plage  au Clontarf to
feale the gay aire of my salt troublin bay and the race of the saywint up me
ambushure.
     Onon!  Onon!  tell me  more. Tell me every tiny teign.  I want  to know
every  single ingul. Down to  what made the potters fly into  jagsthole. And
why were the vesles vet. That  homa fever's  winning me wome. If a mahun  of
the horse but  hard me! We'd be bundukiboi  meet askarigal.  Well, now comes
the hazelhatchery part. After  Clondalkin  the  Kings's  Inns. We'll soon be
there with the freshet. How many aleveens had  she in  tool? I can't rightly
rede  you that. Close only knows. Some say she had three figures to fill and
confined   herself   to   a   hundred  eleven,   wan  bywan  bywan,   making
meanacuminamoyas.  Olaph lamm et, all  that  pack? We won't have room in the
kirkeyaard. She  can't remember half of the cradlenames she  smacked on them
by the grace of her  boxing  bishop's infallible slipper,  the cane for Kund
and abbles for  Eyolf and ayther nayther for Yakov Yea. A  hundred and  how?
They did  well  to  rechristien her  Pluhurabelle.  O loreley! What a loddon
lodes! Heigh  ho!  But it's quite on the cards she'll shed more and merrier,
twills and trills,  sparefours and  spoilfives, nordsihkes and sudsevers and
ayes and neins to a litter. Grandfarthring nap and Messamisery and the knave
of all knaves and the joker. Heehaw! She must have been a  gadabount  in her
day, so she must, more than  most. Shoal she was,  gidgad. She had a flewmen
of her  owen. Then a toss nare scared that lass, so aimai moe, that's agapo!
Tell me, tell me, how cam she camlin through all her fellows, the neckar she
was, the diveline? Casting her perils before  our swains from Fonte-in-Monte
to Tidingtown  and from Tidingtown  tilhavet.  Linking one  and knocking the
next,  tapting a flank  and tipting a jutty and palling in and pietaring out
and clyding by on her eastway. Waiwhou was the first thurever burst? Someone
he was, whuebra they were, in a tactic  attack  or in single combat. Tinker,
tilar, souldrer, salor,  Pieman  Peace or Polistaman.  That's the thing  I'm
elwys on  edge  to  esk.  Push  up  and  push  vardar  and  come  to  uphill
headquarters!  Was it waterlows year, after Grattan or Flood,  or when maids
were in Arc or when  three  stood hosting? Fidaris will find where the Doubt
arises  like Nieman from  Nirgends found  the  Nihil. Worry you sighin  foh,
Albern, O Anser? Untie the gemman's fistiknots, Qvic and Nuancee! She  can't
put her hand on him for the moment. Tez thelon langlo, walking weary! Such a
loon waybashwards to row!  She sid herself she hardly knows whuon the annals
her graveller was, a dynast of  Leinster, a wolf  of the sea, or what he did
or how blyth she played or  how,  when, why,  where and who offon he jumpnad
her and how it  was gave her away. She was  just a young  thin pale soft shy
slim slip of a thing  then,  sauntering, by silvamoonlake and he was a heavy
trudging lurching lieabroad of a Curraghman, making his hay for whose sun to
shine on, as tough as the oaktrees (peats be with them!) used to rustle that
time down  by the dykes of  killing  Kildare, for forstfellfoss with a plash
across her. She  thought she's sankh neathe the ground  with  nymphant shame
when he gave her the tigris eye ! O happy fault ! Me wish it was he ! You're
wrong there, corribly wrong! Tisn't only tonight  you're anacheronistic!  It
was ages behind that when nullahs were nowhere, in county Wickenlow,  garden
of  Erin, before she  ever dreamt  she'd lave Kilbride and  go foaming under
Horsepass bridge, with the great southerwestern windstorming her  traces and
the  midland's grainwaster asarch  for her track, to  wend her ways byandby,
robecca or  worse, to spin and to grind, to swab and  to thrash, for all her
golden   lifey   in   the   barleyfields   and  pennylotts   of   Humphrey's
fordofhurdlestown and  lie with a landleaper, wellingtonorseher. Alesse, the
lagos of girly days! For the dove of the dunas! Wasut? Izod? Are you sarthin
suir?  Not  where the Finn  fits into  the Mourne, not where  the Nore takes
lieve of BlÞm,  not  where the  Braye divarts the Farer, not  where  the Moy
changez  her minds twixt Cullin  and Conn  tween  Cunn and Collin? Or  where
Neptune  sculled and Tritonville rowed and leandros  three  bumped  heroines
two? Neya, narev, nen, nonni, nos ! Then whereabouts in Ow and Ovoca? Was it
yst  with  wyst or Lucan Yokan or  where the hand of man has never set foot?
Dell me  where,  the fairy  ferse time! I will if you  listen.  You know the
dinkel dale of Luggelaw?  Well, there once dwelt a  local  heremite, Michael
Arklow was his riverend name,  (with  many  a sigh I aspersed his lavabibs!)
and one  venersderg  in  junojuly, oso sweet and so cool  and so  limber she
looked, Nance the Nixie, Nanon L'Escaut, in  the  silence, of the sycomores,
all listening, the kindling curves you simply can't stop feeling, he plunged
both of his newly anointed hands, the core of his  cushlas, in her singimari
saffron strumans of  hair, parting  them  and soothing her  and mingling it,
that  was  deepdark and ample like this  red bog  at  sundown. By that  Vale
Vowclose's  lucydlac,  the reignbeau's  heavenarches  arronged orranged her.
Afrothdizzying galbs, her enamelled eyes indergoading him  on to the  vierge
violetian. Wish a wish! Why a why? Mavro ! Letty Lerck's lafing light  throw
those  laurals now on her daphdaph teasesong  petrock. Maass! But  the majik
wavus has elfun anon  meshes. And Simba the  Slayer of his Oga is  slewd. He
cuddle not help himself, thurso that hot on him, he had to  forget the  monk
in  the  man so, rubbing her up and smoothing her down, he baised his lippes
in  smiling mood, kiss akiss  after kisokushk (as  he  warned  her niver to,
niver to, nevar)  on Anna-na-Poghue's of  the freckled forehead. While you'd
parse  secheressa  she hielt  her souff'.  But she  ruz two feet hire in her
aisne aestumation.  And steppes on stilts ever since. That was kissuahealing
with  bantur for balm!  O, wasn't he  the bold priest?  And  wasn't she  the
naughty  Livvy? Nautic Naama's now her navn. Two lads  in scoutsch  breeches
went   through   her  before  that,  Barefoot   Burn   and   Wallowme  Wade,
Lugnaquillia's noblesse pickts, before she had a hint of a hair at her fanny
to  hide  or a bossom  to tempt a  birch canoedler  not to  mention a bulgic
porterhouse barge. And ere  that again, leada, laida, all unraidy, too faint
to buoy the fairiest  rider, too frail to flirt  with  a cygnet's plume, she
was licked  by a hound, Chirripa-Chirruta,  while poing  her  pee,  pure and
simple,  on  the  spur  of  the  hill   in  old  Kippure,  in  birdsong  and
shearingtime,  but  first  of all, worst  of  all,  the wiggly  livvly,  she
sideslipped out by a gap in the Devil's glen while Sally her nurse was sound
asleep in  a sloot and, feefee fiefie, fell over a spillway before she found
her stride and lay  and wriggled in all the stagnant  black  pools of  rainy
under a fallow coo and  she laughed innocefree  with her limbs  aloft and  a
whole drove of maiden hawthorns blushing and looking askance upon her.
     Drop me  the sound of  the findhorn's  name, Mtu  or Mti, sombogger was
wisness.  And drip me  why in the flenders was she frickled. And trickle  me
through was she marcellewaved or was it weirdly a wig she wore. And whitside
did they droop their glows in their florry, aback to wist or affront to sea?
In fear to hear the dear so near  or longing loth and  loathing longing? Are
you in the swim or are you out? O go in, go on, go an! I mean about what you
know.  I know  right well  what you mean. Rother! You'd  like the coifs  and
guimpes, snouty, and me to do the  greasy jub on old Veronica's wipers. What
am I rancing now  and  I'll thank  you? Is  it a pinny or is it  a surplice?
Arran, where's  your nose? And  where's  the starch?  That's not the  vesdre
benediction smell. I can tell from here by their eau de Colo and  the  scent
of her oder they're Mrs Magrath's.  And you ought to have aird them. They've
moist come  off her. Creases in silk  they are,  not crampton lawn. Baptiste
me,  father, for she has sinned! Through her catchment  ring she freed  them
easy, with her hips' hurrahs for  her knees'dontelleries. The only parr with
frills in  old the plain. So  they are, I declare! Welland well! If tomorrow
keeps fine who'll  come  tripping to sightsee? How'll? Ask  me next  what  I
haven't  got!  The Belvedarean exhibitioners. In  their  cruisery  caps  and
oarsclub colours. What hoo,  they band! And what hoa, they buck! And here is
her  nubilee letters too. Ellis on  quay in  scarlet thread. Linked for  the
world on a flushcaloured field.  Annan exe after  to show  they're not Laura
Keown's. O, may  the  diabolo twisk  your seifety pin! You child  of Mammon,
Kinsella's Lilith! Now  who has  been tearing the leg of her drawars on her?
Which  leg is it? The  one with the bells on  it. Rinse  them out  and aston
along with you! Where did I  stop? Never stop! Continuarration!  You're  not
there yet. I amstel waiting. Garonne, garonne!
     Well,   after   it  was  put   in   the  Mericy   Cordial   Mendicants'
Sitterdag-Zindeh-Munaday  Wakeschrift  (for  once they  sullied  their white
kidloves,  chewing  cuds  after their  dinners of cheeckin  and beggin, with
their show us it here and their mind out of that and their when you're quite
finished with the reading matarial), even the snee that snowdon his  hoaring
hair had  a skunner  against him.  Thaw, thaw, sava, savuto! Score Her Chuff
Exsquire! Everywhere erriff you went and every bung you arver dropped  into,
in cit or suburb or in addled areas, the Rose and  Bottle  or Phoenix Tavern
or Power's Inn  or Jude's Hotel or wherever you scoured the countryside from
Nannywater  to  Vartryville or from Porta  Lateen to the  lootin quarter you
found his ikom etsched tipside down or the cornerboys cammocking his guy and
Morris  the  Man, with  the role  of a  royss in his  turgos  the  turrible,
(Evropeahahn cheic house, unskimmed sooit and yahoort,  hamman now cheekmee,
Ahdahm this way make, Fatima, half tum!) reeling and railing round the local
as  the peihos piped  und ubanjees twanged,  with  oddfellow's  triple tiara
busby   rotundarinking   round   his   scalp.   Like   Pate-by-the-Neva   or
Pete-over-Meer. This is the Hausman all paven and  stoned, that cribbed  the
Cabin that never was owned  that cocked his  leg and hennad his Egg. And the
mauldrin rabble around  him  in areopage, fracassing  a great bingkan cagnan
with  their timpan crowders. Mind your Grimmfather! Think of  your Ma!  Hing
the  Hong is his jove's hangnomen ! Lilt a bolero, bulling a law ! She swore
on croststyx nyne wyndabouts she's be level  with all the snags of them yet.
Par  the Vulnerable  Virgin's Mary  del Dame!  So she  said to herself she'd
frame a plan to fake a  shine,  the mischiefmaker, the like of it you niever
heard. What  plan? Tell me quick and dongu so crould! What the  meurther did
she mague? Well, she bergened a zakbag, a  shammy mailsack, with the lend of
a loan of the light of his lampion, off one of her swapsons, Shaun the Post,
and  then she went and  consulted  her chapboucqs, old  Mot  Moore,  Casey's
Euclid  and  the  Fashion  Display  and made herself tidal  to  join in  the
mascarete. O  gig  goggle  of  gigguels.  I  can't  tell you  how!  It's too
screaming to rizo, rabbit it all! Minneha, minnehi minaaehe,  minneho! O but
you must,  you must  really! Make my hear it gurgle gurgle, like  the farest
gargle  gargle in the dusky dirgle  dargle! By the holy well of Mulhuddart I
swear I'd pledge my chanza getting to heaven through Tirry and Killy's mount
of impiety to  hear it all, aviary word! O, leave me my  faculties, woman, a
while! If you  don't like my story  get  out of the punt. Well, have it your
own way, so. Here, sit down and do as you're bid. Take my stroke and bend to
your bow. Forward in and pull your overthepoise! Lisp it slaney and crisp it
quiet. Deel me longsome. Tongue  your  time now. Breathe thet deep. Thouat's
the fairway. Hurry slow and scheldt you go.  Lynd us your blessed ashes here
till I scrub the canon's underpants. Flow now. Ower more. And pooleypooley.
     First she let her  hair fal and down it flussed to her feet its teviots
winding coils.  Then,  mothernaked, she sampood herself  with  galawater and
fraguant pistania mud,  wupper  and lauar,  from  crown  to  sole.  Next she
greesed the groove of her keel, warthes and wears and mole and  itcher, with
antifouling butterscatch and turfentide and  serpenthyme and  with leafmould
she ushered round prunella isles  and eslats  dun, quincecunct, allover  her
little mary. Peeld gold of  waxwork her jellybelly and her grains of incense
anguille bronze. And after that she wove a garland for her hair. She pleated
it.  She  plaited  it.  Of  meadowgrass  and  riverflags,  the  bulrush  and
waterweed,  and  of  fallen  griefs of  weeping  willow.  Then she made  her
bracelets and her anklets and her armlets and a jetty amulet for necklace of
clicking cobbles and pattering pebbles  and rumbledown rubble, richmond  and
rehr, of Irish rhunerhinerstones and shellmarble bangles. That done,  a dawk
of smut to her  airy ey, Annushka Lutetiavitch  Pufflovah,  and the lellipos
cream to her lippeleens and the pick of the paintbox for her pommettes, from
strawbirry reds to extra  violates, and  she sendred her boudeloire maids to
His Affluence, Ciliegia  Grande  and Kirschie  Real, the two chirsines, with
respecks from his missus, seepy and sewery, and a request might she passe of
him for a minnikin. A call to pay and light a taper, in Brie-on-Arrosa, back
in  a sprizzling. The cock  striking  mine, the stalls bridely sign, there's
Zambosy waiting for Me! She said she wouldn't be half her length away. Then,
then, as soon as the lump his back was turned, with her mealiebag slang over
her shulder, Anna Livia, oysterface, forth of her bassein came.
     Describe her! Hustle along, why can't you? Spitz on the iern while it's
hot. I wouldn't miss her for irthing  on  nerthe. Not for the lucre of lomba
strait. Oceans of Gaud, I mosel hear that! Ogowe presta! Leste, before Julia
sees her!  Ishekarry  and washemeskad,  the  carishy caratimaney? Whole lady
fair? Duodecimoroon? Bon a ventura? Malagassy? What had she  on, the  liddel
oud  oddity? How much did she  scallop,  harness and weights? Here  she  is,
Amnisty Ann! Call her calamity electrifies man.
     No  electress at all but old Moppa  Necessity, angin mother  of injons.
I'll tell you a test.  But  you must sit still. Will you hold your peace and
listen well to what I am going to  say now? It might have been ten or twenty
to one of the night of Allclose or the nexth of April when  the flip of  her
hoogly igloo flappered and out toetippit a bushman woman, the dearest little
moma ever you saw, nodding around her, all smiles, with ems of embarras  and
aues to awe, between two ages, a judyqueen, not  up to your elb. Quick, look
at her  cute and  saise her  quirk for the bicker she lives the slicker  she
grows. Save us and tagus ! No more? Werra where  in ourthe did you ever pick
a Lambay chop as big as  a  battering ram?  Ay, you're  right. I'm  epte  to
forgetting, Like Liviam Liddle did Loveme Long. The linth of my hough, I say
!  She  wore a ploughboy's  nailstudded  clogs,  a pair of  ploughfields  in
themselves: a sugarloaf hat with a gaudyquiviry peak and a band of gorse for
an arnoment  and a hundred streamers dancing off it and  a guildered  pin to
pierce it:  owlglassy bicycles boggled her eyes: and a fishnetzeveil for the
sun not to spoil the wrinklings of her hydeaspects: potatorings boucled  the
loose   laubes   of   her  laudsnarers:   her  nude  cuba   stockings   were
salmospotspeckled: she  sported  a  galligo shimmy of hazevaipar tinto  that
never was fast till it ran  in  the washing: stout stays, the rivals,  lined
her length:  her  bloodorange  bockknickers, a two  in one  garment,  showed
natural  nigger boggers,  fancyfastened, free to  undo: her  blackstripe tan
joseph was sequansewn and teddybearlined, with wavy rushgreen epaulettes and
a leadown here and there of royal swansruff: a brace of gaspers stuck in her
hayrope  garters:  her  civvy  codroy  coat  with  alpheubett  buttons   was
boundaried  round  with  a  twobar  tunnel  belt:  a  fourpenny bit in  each
pocketside weighed her safe from the blowaway windrush; she had a clothespeg
tight astride on her joki's nose and she kep on grinding a sommething quaint
in her fiumy mouth and  the rrreke of the fluve of the tail of  the gawan of
her snuffdrab siouler's skirt trailed  ffiffty odd  Irish  miles behind  her
lungarhodes.
     Hellsbells, I'm sorry I missed her! Sweet gumptyum and nobody fainted !
But in whelk of her mouths? Was her naze  alight? Everyone that saw her said
the  dowce little delia looked a  bit queer. Lotsy  trotsy, mind the poddle!
Missus,  be  good  and don't fol in the say! Fenny poor  hex  she  must have
charred. Kickhams a frumpier ever  you saw! Making mush mullet's eyes at her
boys dobelon. And they  crowned her  their chariton queen, all the maids. Of
the may? You  don't say!  Well  for her she couldn't see herself. I recknitz
wharfore the darling murrayed  her  mirror. She did? Mersey me! There was  a
koros  of   drouthdropping   surfacemen,   boomslanging   and   plugchewing,
fruiteyeing and flowerfeeding, in contemplation  of the fluctuation and  the
undification of her filimentation, lolling and leasing on North Lazers' Waal
all eelfare week by the Jukar Yoick's and as soon as they saw her meander by
that marritime way in her grasswinter's weeds and  twigged who was under her
archdeaconess bonnet,  Avondale's fish and  Clarence's poison,  sedges an to
aneber, Wit-uponCrutches to Master Bates: Between our two southsates and the
granite they're warming, or her face has been lifted or Alp has doped!
     But what was the game in her  mixed baggyrhatty?  Just the tembo in her
tumbo or pilipili from her  pepperpot? Saas and taas and specis bizaas.  And
where in thunder did she plunder? Fore the  battle or efter the ball? I want
to  get it  frisk from the  soorce.  I aubette  my  bearb  it's worth  while
poaching  on! Shake  it  up, do,  do! That's  a good old son of a  ditch!  I
promise I'll  make it worth your while. And I don't mean maybe. Nor yet with
a goodfor. Spey me pruth and I'll tale you true.
     Well, arundgirond in a waveney lyne aringarouma  she pattered and swung
and sidled,  dribbling her boulder through narrowa mosses,  the diliskydrear
on  our drier side  and  the vilde  vetchvine agin us,  curara here, careero
there,  not knowing which  medway  or weser  to strike it, edereider, making
chattahoochee all to her  ain chichiu, like Santa Claus  at the cree  of the
pale and puny, nistling to hear for their tiny hearties, her arms encircling
Isolabella, then running with reconciled Romas and Reims,  on like a lech to
be off  like a dart,  then bathing Dirty Hans' spatters with spittle, with a
Christmas box apiece for  aisch  and iveryone  of  her childer, the birthday
gifts  they dreamt they gabe her, the  spoiled she fleetly laid at our door!
On the matt, by the pourch and inunder the cellar. The rivulets ran aflod to
see, the glashaboys, the pollynooties. Out of the paunschaup on to the pyre.
And  they all about  her, juvenile leads and ingenuinas,  from  the slime of
their slums and artesaned wellings,  rickets and riots, like the  Smyly boys
at  their vicereine's levee. Vivi vienne, little  Annchen! Vielo Anna,  high
life! Sing  us a sula,  O,  susuria! Ausone  sidulcis!  Hasn't  she  tambre!
Chipping her  and raising a bit of a chir or a jary every  dive she'd neb in
her  culdee  sacco  of  wabbash  she   raabed  and   reach  out  her  maundy
meerschaundize, poor souvenir as  per  ricorder and all for sore aringarung,
stinkers  and  heelers,  laggards  and primelads,  her  furzeborn  sons  and
dribblederry daughters,  a  thousand and one of them,  and wickerpotluck for
each of them. For evil  and  ever. And  kiks the buch. A tinker's bann and a
barrow to boil his billy for Gipsy Lee; a cartridge of cockaleekie soup  for
Chummy  the  Guardsman;  for  sulky  Pender's  acid  nephew  delto'd  drops,
curiously  strong;  a  cough and  a  rattle and  wildrose  cheeks  for  poor
Piccolina  Petite MacFarlane;  a  jigsaw puzzle  of  needles  and  pins  and
blankets and shins between them  for Isabel, Jezebel and Llewelyn Mmarriage;
a brazen nose and pigiron mittens for Johnny Walker Beg; a papar flag of the
saints and  stripes  for Kevineen O'Dea; a puffpuff  for  Pudge  Craig and a
nightmarching hare  for Techertim Tombigby;  waterleg and gumboots each  for
Bully  Hayes and Hurricane Hartigan;  a prodigal heart and fatted calves for
Buck Jones, the pride of Clonliffe; a loaf of bread and a father's early aim
for Val  from Skibereen;  a  jauntingcar  for  Larry  Doolin,  the Ballyclee
jackeen; a seasick trip on  a government ship for Teague O'Flanagan; a louse
and trap for Jerry Coyle;  slushmincepies for Andy Mackenzie; a hairclip and
clackdish  for Penceless  Peter; that twelve sounds look for G. V. Brooke; a
drowned doll, to face downwards for modest Sister Anne Mortimer; altar falls
for  Blanchisse's bed; Wildairs'  breechettes for  Magpeg Woppington; to Sue
Dot  a  big  eye;  to  Sam  Dash a false step; snakes  in clover, picked and
scotched,  and a vaticanned viper  catcher's visa for  Patsy Presbys; a reiz
every morning  for Standfast  Dick and a  drop every minute for Stumblestone
Davy;  scruboak beads  for beatified  Biddy;  two appletweed stools  for Eva
Mobbely;  for  Saara Philpot  a  jordan  vale  tearorne;  a  pretty  box  of
Pettyfib's Powder for Eileen  Aruna  to whiten her teeth and outflash  Helen
Arhone; a whippingtop for  Eddy Lawless; for Kitty Coleraine  of Butterman's
Lane a  penny wise for her foolish  pitcher; a  putty  shovel for Terry  the
Puckaun;  an  apotamus  mask  for  Promoter  Dunne;  a  niester egg  with  a
twicedated shell  and  a  dynamight  right for  Pavl  the  Curate; a collera
morbous for Mann in the Cloack; a starr and girton for Draper and Deane; for
Will-of-the-Wisp  and  Barny-the-Bark  two mangolds noble  to  sweeden their
bitters; for Oliver Bound a  way in his frey;  for Seumas, thought little, a
crown he  feels big; a tibertine's pile with  a Congoswood cross on the back
for  Sunny Twimjim;  a  praises be and  spare  me days for  Brian-the Bravo;
penteplenty of pity with lubilashings of lust for Olona  Lena Magdalena; for
Camilla, Dromilla, Ludmilla, Mamilla,  a  bucket, a  packet, a  book  and  a
pillow; for Nancy  Shannon a Tuami  brooch; for  Dora Riparia Hopeandwater a
cooling douche and a warmingpan; a pair of Blarney braggs for Wally Meagher;
a  hairpin slatepencil  for Elsie Oram to scratch her  toby,  doing her best
with  her volgar fractions; an  old age pension for Betty Bellezza; a bag of
the  blues  for  Funny Fitz; a Missa pro Messa for  Taff de Taff; Jill,  the
spoon of a girl, for Jack,  the broth of a boy;  a  Rogerson Crusoe's Friday
fast  for Caducus Angelus Rubiconstein; three  hundred  and sixtysix  poplin
tyne for revery  warp  in the weaver's  woof  for Victor  Hugonot;  a  stiff
steaded rake  and good varians  muck  for Kate the Cleaner;  a  hole  in the
ballad for Hosty; two dozen of cradles for J.F.X.P. Coppinger; tenpounten on
the  pop for  the daulphins  born with  five  spoiled squibs  for Infanta; a
letter  to  last a  lifetime for  Maggi  beyond by the ashpit;  the heftiest
frozenmeat woman from  Lusk  to  Livienbad  for  Felim  the Ferry;  spas and
speranza  and  symposium's  syrup for  decayed  and blind and gouty Gough; a
change  of naves  and  joys  of  ills  for  Armoricus  Tristram Amoor  Saint
Lawrence; a guillotine shirt for Reuben Redbreast and hempen suspendeats for
Brennan on the Moor; an  oakanknee for Conditor Sawyer and musquodoboits for
Great Tropical Scott; a C3 peduncle for Karmalite Kane; a sunless map of the
month, including the sword and stamps, for Shemus O'Shaun the Post; a jackal
with hide for Browne but Nolan; a stonecold shoulder for Donn Joe Vance; all
lock and  no  stable for  Honorbright Merreytrickx;  a big  drum  for  Billy
Dunboyne;  a  guilty  goldeny bellows, below  me blow me,for Ida  Ida  and a
hushaby  rocker,Elletrouvetout,for  Who-issilvier  -- Where-is-he?; whatever
you  like  to swilly to swash, Yuinness  or Yennessy,  Laagen or  Niger, for
Festus King  and Roaring Peter and  Frisky Shorty and  Treacle Tom and O. B.
Behan and Sully the Thug  and Master Magrath and Peter Cloran and O'Delawarr
Rossa  and  Nerone  MacPacem and whoever you chance to meet knocking around;
and a pig's bladder balloon  for  Selina Susquehanna  Stakelum. But what did
she give  to Pruda Ward and Katty Kanel and Peggy Quilty and  Briery  Brosna
and Teasy Kieran  and Ena  Lappin and Muriel  Maassy  and  Zusan  Camac  and
Melissa Bradogue  and Flora Ferns and Fauna  Fox-Goodman and Grettna Greaney
and Penelope Inglesante and Lezba Licking like Leytha Liane and Roxana Rohan
with Simpatica Sohan and Una  Bina Laterza and Trina La  Mesme and Philomena
O'Farrell  and  Irmak  Elly  and  Josephine Foyle  and Snakeshead  Lily  and
Fountainoy Laura and  Marie Xavier Agnes Daisy Frances de Sales Macleay? She
gave them  ilcka  madre's  daughter a moonflower  and  a bloodvein: but  the
grapes  that  ripe before  reason to them that  devide the  vinedress. So on
Izzy, her shamemaid, love shone befond her tears as from Shem, her penmight,
life past befoul his prime.
     My colonial, wardha bagful! A bakereen's  dusind with  tithe tillies to
boot. That's what you may call a tale of a tub ! And Hibernonian market! All
that  and  more  under  one crinoline  envelope  if you dare  to  break  the
porkbarrel seal. No wonder they'd run from her pison plague. Throw  us  your
hudson soap for the honour of Clane! The wee taste the water left. I'll raft
it  back, first thing in  the marne. Merced mulde! Ay, and don't  forget the
reckitts I  lohaned you.  You've  all the swirls your  side  of the current.
Well, am I to blame for that if I have? Who said you're to blame for that if
you have? You're  a bit  on the  sharp side. I'm on the wide. Only snuffers'
cornets drifts my way that the cracka dvine chucks out of his cassock,  with
her estheryear's marsh  narcissus to make  him recant his vanitty fair. Foul
strips  of his chinook's bible  I  do  be reading,  dodwell  disgustered but
chickled with chuckles at the tittles is drawn  on the tattlepage. Senior ga
dito:  Faciasi Omo! E omo fu fo. Ho!  Ho!  Senior ga dito:  Faciasi  Hidamo!
Hidamo se ga facess.... Ha!  Ha!  And  Die  Windermere  Dichter  and  Lefanu
(Sheridan's) old House by the Coachyard and Mill (J.) On Woman with Ditto on
the Floss. Ja, a swamp for Altmuehler and a  stone for his flossies ! I know
how  racy they move his wheel. My hands are blawcauld between isker and suda
like that piece of pattern chayney there, lying below. Or where is it? Lying
beside the sedge I  saw  it. Hoangho,  my sorrow, I've lost it! Aimihi! With
that turbary water who could see? So near and yet so  far! But O,  gihon!  I
lovat a gabber. I could listen to maure and moravar again. Regn onder river.
Flies do your float. Thick is the life for mere.
     Well, you know or don't you kennet or  haven't I told you every telling
has a taling and that's  the he  and the she of it.  Look, look, the dusk is
growing! My branches lofty are taking root. And my  cold cher's gone ashley.
Fieluhr? Filou! What age is at? It saon  is late. 'Tis endless now senne eye
or  erewone last saw Waterhouse's clogh. They took  it  asunder, I hurd thum
sigh. When will  they reassemble it? O,  my back, my back, my bach! I'd want
to go to Aches-les-Pains. Pingpong!  There's  the Belle for  Sexaloitez! And
Concepta  de  Send-us-pray!  Pang!  Wring out the clothes! Wring in the dew!
Godavari, vert the showers! And grant thaya grace! Aman. Will we spread them
here now?  Ay, we will.  Flip ! Spread on your bank and I'll spread  mine on
mine. Flep! It's what  I'm doing. Spread ! It's churning chill. Der went  is
rising.  I'll lay a few stones  on the hostel  sheets. A man  and his  bride
embraced between  them.  Else I'd have sprinkled  and folded them only.  And
I'll tie my butcher's apron here. It's suety yet. The strollers will pass it
by.  Six shifts,  ten kerchiefs,  nine to hold  to the fire and this for the
code,  the convent napkins,twelve,  one  baby's  shawl.  Good mother Jossiph
knows, she said. Whose head? Mutter snores? Deataceas!  Wharnow are alle her
childer,  say?  In  kingdome  gone or power  to come  or  gloria  be to them
farther? Allalivial, allalluvial! Some  here,  more no more, more again lost
alla stranger. I've heard tell that same brooch  of the Shannons was married
into a family in Spain. And all the Dunders de Dunnes in Markland's Vineland
beyond Brendan's herring pool takes  number nine in  yangsee's hats. And one
of Biddy's  beads went  bobbing till she  rounded up lost histereve  with  a
marigold  and a  cobbler's  candle  in a side strain of  a  main drain  of a
manzinahurries off Bachelor's  Walk.  But all that's left to the last of the
Meaghers in the loup of the years prefixed and between is one kneebuckle and
two hooks in the front. Do you tell  me.  that now? I do in troth. Orara por
Orbe  and poor Las  Animas! Ussa, Ulla,  we're umbas  all! Mezha, didn't you
hear it  a deluge of times, ufer and ufer,  respund  to spond? You deed, you
deed!  I need, I need! It's that irrawaddyng  I've stoke in my aars.  It all
but husheth the lethest zswound. Oronoko ! What's your trouble? Is that  the
great Finnleader himself in his joakimono on his statue riding the high hone
there forehengist? Father of Otters, it is himself! Yonne there! Isset that?
On  Fallareen  Common? You're thinking of  Astley's Amphitheayter where  the
bobby restrained you making sugarstuck pouts to the ghostwhite horse of  the
Peppers.  Throw the cobwebs  from your eyes, woman,  and spread your washing
proper! It's well I know your sort of  slop. Flap! Ireland  sober is Ireland
stiff Lord  help  you, Maria, full  of  grease,  the  load is with me!  Your
prayers.  I  sonht zo! Madammangut! Were you  lifting your elbow,  tell  us,
glazy  cheeks,  in Conway's Carrigacurra canteen? Was  I what, hobbledyhips?
Flop! Your rere gait's creakorheuman bitts your  butts disagrees. Amn't I up
since the  damp tawn, marthared  mary  allacook,  with Corrigan's  pulse and
varicoarse veins, my  pramaxle smashed, Alice Jane in decline and my oneeyed
mongrel  twice run over,  soaking  and  bleaching boiler rags, and  sweating
cold, a  widow like me, for to deck my tennis  champion son,  the laundryman
with  the lavandier  flannels?  You won your  limpopo  limp  fron  the husky
hussars when Collars and  Cuffs was heir to the town and your  slur gave the
stink to Carlow. Holy Scamander, I sar it again! Near the golden falls. Icis
on us! Seints of light! Zezere! Subdue your noise, you hamble creature! What
is it but a  blackburry growth  or the dwyergray ass them four  old  codgers
owns. Are you meanam Tarpey and  Lyons and Gregory? I meyne now, thank  all,
the four of them, and the  roar of  them, that draves that stray in the mist
and  old  Johnny  MacDougal  along with them. Is  that  the Poolbeg  flasher
beyant, pharphar, or a fireboat coasting nyar the Kishtna or a glow I behold
within a hedge or my Garry come back from the Indes? Wait till  the honeying
of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die! We see that wonder in your eye.
We'll  meet again,  we'll part  once more.  The spot I'll  seek if the  hour
you'll  find.   My  chart   shines  high   where   the  blue  milk's  upset.
Forgivemequick, I'm  going!  Bubye! And you,  pluck your watch, forgetmenot.
Your evenlode. So save to  jurna's end! My sights are swimming thicker on me
by the shadows to this place.  I sow  home slowly now by own way,  moyvalley
way. Towy I too, rathmine.
     Ah, but she was the queer old skeowsha anyhow, Anna Livia, trinkettoes!
And sure he was the quare old buntz too, Dear Dirty Dumpling, foostherfather
of fingalls and dotthergills. Gammer  and gaffer we're  all their gangsters.
Hadn't he seven dams to wive him? And every dam  had her seven crutches. And
every crutch had its seven hues. And each hue had a differing cry. Sudds for
me and supper  for  you and the doctor's bill for Joe John. Befor! Bifur! He
married  his markets,  cheap by foul,  I  know,  like any  Etrurian Catholic
Heathen, in their pinky limony creamy  birnies  and their  turkiss  indienne
mauves. But at milkidmass who  was the  spouse?  Then all that was was fair.
Tys Elvenland ! Teems of times and happy returns. The seim anew. Ordovico or
viricordo. Anna  was, Livia  is, Plurabelle's to  be.  Northmen's thing made
southfolk's place  but  howmulty plurators made eachone in  person? Latin me
that,  my  trinity scholard,  out  of eure sanscreed into oure eryan! Hircus
Civis Eblanensis!  He had buckgoat paps on him,  soft ones for  orphans. Ho,
Lord ! Twins of his bosom. Lord save us! And ho! Hey? What all men. Hot? His
tittering daughters of. Whawk?
     Can't  hear  with  the waters  of. The chittering waters of. Flittering
bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are  you  not  gone ahome? What Thom  Malone?
Can't hear with bawk of bats, all thim liffeying waters of. Ho, talk save us
! My foos won't moos. I  feel as old as yonder elm. A tale told  of Shaun or
Shem? All Livia's daughtersons. Dark hawks hear us. Night! Night! My ho head
halls. I feel as heavy as  yonder stone. Tell me of John or Shaun?  Who were
Shem and Shaun the living sons or daughters of? Night now! Tell me, tell me,
tell me, elm! Night night!  Telmetale of stem or stone. Beside  the rivering
waters of, hitherandthithering waters of. Night!