| bewailing like a man that innocence which I could not defend | 1 |
| like a woman, lo,you there, Cathmon-Carbery, and thank Movies | 2 |
| from the innermost depths of my still attrite heart,Wherein | 3 |
| the days of youyouth are evermixed mimine, now ere the comp- | 4 |
| line hour of being alone athands itself and a puff or so before | 5 |
| we yield our spiritus to the wind, for (though that royal one | 6 |
| has not yet drunk a gouttelette from his consummation and the | 7 |
| flowerpot on the pole, the spaniel pack and their quarry, retainers | 8 |
| and the public house proprietor have not budged a millimetre | 9 |
| and all that has been done has yet to be done and done again, | 10 |
| when's day's woe, and lo, you're doomed, joyday dawns and, | 11 |
| la, you dominate) it is to you, firstborn and firstfruit of woe, to | 12 |
| me, branded sheep, pick of the wasterpaperbaskel, by the | 13 |
| tremours of Thundery and Ulerin's dogstar, you alone, wind- | 14 |
| blasted tree of the knowledge of beautiful andevil, ay, clothed | 15 |
| upon with the metuor and shimmering like the horescens, astro- | 16 |
| glodynamonologos, the child of Nilfit's father, blzb, to me | 17 |
| unseen blusher in an obscene coalhole, the cubilibum of your | 18 |
| secret sigh, dweller in the downandoutermost where voice only | 19 |
| of the dead may come, because ye left from me, because ye | 20 |
| laughed on me, because, O me lonly son, ye are forgetting me!, | 21 |
| that our turfbrown mummy is acoming, alpilla, beltilla, ciltilla, | 22 |
| deltilla, running with her tidings, old the news of the great big | 23 |
| world, sonnies had a scrap, woewoewoe! bab's baby walks at | 24 |
| seven months, waywayway ! bride leaves her raid at Punchestime, | 25 |
| stud stoned before a racecourseful, two belles that make the | 26 |
| one appeal, dry yanks will visit old sod, and fourtiered skirts | 27 |
| are up, mesdames, while Parimiknie wears popular short legs, | 28 |
| and twelve hows to mix a tipsy wake, did ye hear, colt Cooney? | 29 |
| did ye ever, filly Fortescue? with a beck, with a spring, all her | 30 |
| rillringlets shaking, rocks drops in her tachie, tramtokens in | 31 |
| her hair, all waived to a point and then all inuendation, little | 32 |
| oldfashioned mummy, little wonderful mummy, ducking under | 33 |
| bridges, bellhopping the weirs, dodging by a bit of bog, rapid- | 34 |
| shooting round the bends, by Tallaght's green hills and the | 35 |
| pools of the phooka and a place they call it Blessington and | 36 |