| birthday pelts seenso tutu and that her blanches mainges may rot | 1 |
| leprous off her whatever winking maggis I'll bet by your cut | 2 |
| you go fleurting after with all the glass on her and the jumps | 3 |
| in her stomewhere! Haha! I suspected she was! Sink her! May | 4 |
| they fire her for a barren ewe! So she says: Tay for thee? Well, I | 5 |
| saith: Angst so mush: and desired she might not take it amiss if I | 6 |
| esteemed her but an odd. If I did ate toughturf I'm not a mishy- | 7 |
| missy. Of course I know, pettest, you're so learningful and | 8 |
| considerate in yourself, so friend of vegetables, you long cold cat | 9 |
| you! Please by acquiester to meek my acquointance! Codling, | 10 |
| snakelet, iciclist! My diaper has more life to it! Who drowned | 11 |
| you in drears, man, or are you pillale with ink? Did a weep get | 12 |
| past the gates of your pride? My tread on the clover, sweetness? | 13 |
| Yes, the buttercups told me, hug me, damn it all, and I'll kiss | 14 |
| you back to life, my peachest. I mean to make you suffer, | 15 |
| meddlar, and I don't care this fig for contempt of courting. | 16 |
| That I chid you,sweet sir? You know I'm tender by my eye. | 17 |
| Can't you read by dazzling ones through me true? Bite my | 18 |
| laughters, drink my tears. Pore into me, volumes, spell me stark | 19 |
| and spill me swooning. I just don't care what my thwarters | 20 |
| think. Transname me loveliness, now and here me for all times! | 21 |
| I'd risk a policeman passing by, Magrath or even that beggar of | 22 |
| a boots at the Post. The flame? O, pardone! That was what? | 23 |
| Ah, did you speak, stuffstuff? More poestries from Chickspeer's | 24 |
| with gleechoreal music or a jaculation from the garden of the | 25 |
| soul. Of I be leib in the immoralities? O, you mean the strangle | 26 |
| for love and the sowiveall of the prettiest? Yep, we open hap | 27 |
| coseries in the home. And once upon a week I improve on myself | 28 |
| I'm so keen on that New Free Woman with novel inside. I'm | 29 |
| always as tickled as can be over Man in a Surplus by the Lady | 30 |
| who Pays the Rates. But I'm as pie as is possible. Let's root | 31 |
| out Brimstoker and give him the thrall of our lives. It's Dracula's | 32 |
| nightout. For creepsake don't make a flush! Draw the shades, | 33 |
| curfe you, and I'll beat any sonnamonk to love. Holy bug, how | 34 |
| my highness would jump to make you flame your halve a ban- | 35 |
| nan in two when I'd run my burning torchlight through (to adore | 36 |