| elb. Quick, look at her cute and saise her quirk for the bicker she | 1 |
| lives the slicker she grows. Save us and tagus ! No more? Werra | 2 |
| where in ourthe did you ever pick a Lambay chop as big as a | 3 |
| battering ram? Ay, you're right. I'm epte to forgetting, Like | 4 |
| Liviam Liddle did Loveme Long. The linth of my hough, I say ! | 5 |
| She wore a ploughboy's nailstudded clogs, a pair of ploughfields | 6 |
| in themselves: a sugarloaf hat with a gaudyquiviry peak and a | 7 |
| band of gorse for an arnoment and a hundred streamers dancing | 8 |
| off it and a guildered pin to pierce it: owlglassy bicycles boggled | 9 |
| her eyes: and a fishnetzeveil for the sun not to spoil the wrinklings | 10 |
| of her hydeaspects: potatorings boucled the loose laubes of her | 11 |
| laudsnarers: her nude cuba stockings were salmospotspeckled: she | 12 |
| sported a galligo shimmy of hazevaipar tinto that never was fast | 13 |
| till it ran in the washing: stout stays, the rivals, lined her length: | 14 |
| her bloodorange bockknickers, a two in one garment, showed | 15 |
| natural nigger boggers, fancyfastened, free to undo: her black- | 16 |
| stripe tan joseph was sequansewn and teddybearlined, with wavy | 17 |
| rushgreen epaulettes and a leadown here and there of royal | 18 |
| swansruff: a brace of gaspers stuck in her hayrope garters: her | 19 |
| civvy codroy coat with alpheubett buttons was boundaried round | 20 |
| with a twobar tunnel belt: a fourpenny bit in each pocketside | 21 |
| weighed her safe from the blowaway windrush; she had a clothes- | 22 |
| peg tight astride on her joki's nose and she kep on grinding a | 23 |
| sommething quaint in her fiumy mouth and the rrreke of the | 24 |
| fluve of the tail of the gawan of her snuffdrab siouler's skirt | 25 |
| trailed ffiffty odd Irish miles behind her lungarhodes. | 26 |
| Hellsbells, I'm sorry I missed her! Sweet gumptyum and no- | 27 |
| body fainted ! But in whelk of her mouths? Was her naze alight? | 28 |
| Everyone that saw her said the dowce little delia looked a bit | 29 |
| queer. Lotsy trotsy, mind the poddle! Missus, be good and don't | 30 |
| fol in the say! Fenny poor hex she must have charred. Kickhams | 31 |
| a frumpier ever you saw! Making mush mullet's eyes at her boys | 32 |
| dobelon. And they crowned her their chariton queen, all the | 33 |
| maids. Of the may? You don't say! Well for her she couldn't | 34 |
| see herself. I recknitz wharfore the darling murrayed her mirror. | 35 |
| She did? Mersey me! There was a koros of drouthdropping sur- | 36 |