The three of crows have flapped it southenly, kraaking of de | 1 |
baccle to the kvarters of that sky whence triboos answer; Wail, | 2 |
'tis well! She niver comes out when Thon's on shower or when | 3 |
Thon's flash with his Nixy girls or when Thon's blowing toom- | 4 |
cracks down the gaels of Thon. No nubo no! Neblas on you liv! | 5 |
Her would be too moochy afreet. Of Burymeleg and Bindme- | 6 |
rollingeyes and all the deed in the woe. Fe fo fom! She jist does | 7 |
hopes till byes will be byes. Here, and it goes on to appear now, | 8 |
she comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peri potmother, | 9 |
a pringlpik in the ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows | 10 |
in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a flick flask fleckflinging | 11 |
its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here, pecking | 12 |
there, pussypussy plunderpussy. But it's the armitides toonigh, | 13 |
militopucos, and toomourn we wish for a muddy kissmans to the | 14 |
minutia workers and there's to be a gorgeups truce for happinest | 15 |
childher everwere. Come nebo me and suso sing the day we | 16 |
sallybright. She's burrowed the coacher's headlight the better to | 17 |
pry (who goes cute goes siocur and shoos aroun) and all spoiled | 18 |
goods go into her nabsack: curtrages and rattlin buttins, nappy | 19 |
spattees and flasks of all nations, clavicures and scampulars, maps, | 20 |
keys and woodpiles of haypennies and moonled brooches with | 21 |
bloodstaned breeks in em, boaston nightgarters and masses of | 22 |
shoesets and nickelly nacks and foder allmicheal and a lugly parson | 23 |
of cates and howitzer muchears and midgers and maggets, ills and | 24 |
ells with loffs of toffs and pleures of bells and the last sigh that | 25 |
come fro the hart (bucklied!) and the fairest sin the sunsaw | 26 |
(that's cearc!). With Kiss. Kiss Criss. Cross Criss. Kiss Cross. | 27 |
Undo lives 'end. Slain. | 28 |
    How bootifull and how truetowife of her, when strengly fore- | 29 |
bidden, to steal our historic presents from the past postpropheti- | 30 |
cals so as to will make us all lordy heirs and ladymaidesses of a | 31 |
pretty nice kettle of fruit. She is livving in our midst of debt and | 32 |
laffing through all plores for us (her birth is uncontrollable), with | 33 |
a naperon for her mask and her sabboes kickin arias (so sair! so | 34 |
solly!) if yous ask me and I saack you. Hou! Hou! Gricks may | 35 |
rise and Troysirs fall (there being two sights for ever a picture) | 36 |