| them. Is that the Poolbeg flasher beyant, pharphar, or a fireboat | 1 |
| coasting nyar the Kishtna or a glow I behold within a hedge or | 2 |
| my Garry come back from the Indes? Wait till the honeying of | 3 |
| the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die! We see that wonder in | 4 |
| your eye. We'll meet again, we'll part once more. The spot I'll | 5 |
| seek if the hour you'll find. My chart shines high where the blue | 6 |
| milk's upset. Forgivemequick, I'm going! Bubye! And you, | 7 |
| pluck your watch, forgetmenot. Your evenlode. So save to | 8 |
| jurna's end! My sights are swimming thicker on me by the sha- | 9 |
| dows to this place. I sow home slowly now by own way, moy- | 10 |
| valley way. Towy I too, rathmine. | 11 |
| Ah, but she was the queer old skeowsha anyhow, Anna Livia, | 12 |
| trinkettoes! And sure he was the quare old buntz too, Dear Dirty | 13 |
| Dumpling, foostherfather of fingalls and dotthergills. Gammer | 14 |
| and gaffer we're all their gangsters. Hadn't he seven dams to wive | 15 |
| him? And every dam had her seven crutches. And every crutch | 16 |
| had its seven hues. And each hue had a differing cry. Sudds for | 17 |
| me and supper for you and the doctor's bill for Joe John. Befor! | 18 |
| Bifur! He married his markets, cheap by foul, I know, like any | 19 |
| Etrurian Catholic Heathen, in their pinky limony creamy birnies | 20 |
| and their turkiss indienne mauves. But at milkidmass who was | 21 |
| the spouse? Then all that was was fair. Tys Elvenland ! Teems of | 22 |
| times and happy returns. The seim anew. Ordovico or viricordo. | 23 |
| Anna was, Livia is, Plurabelle's to be. Northmen's thing made | 24 |
| southfolk's place but howmulty plurators made eachone in per- | 25 |
| son? Latin me that, my trinity scholard, out of eure sanscreed into | 26 |
| oure eryan! Hircus Civis Eblanensis! He had buckgoat paps on | 27 |
| him, soft ones for orphans. Ho, Lord ! Twins of his bosom. Lord | 28 |
| save us! And ho! Hey? What all men. Hot? His tittering daugh- | 29 |
| ters of. Whawk? | 30 |
| Can't hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flitter- | 31 |
| ing bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone ahome? | 32 |
| What Thom Malone? Can't hear with bawk of bats, all thim liffey- | 33 |
| ing waters of. Ho, talk save us ! My foos won't moos. I feel as old | 34 |
| as yonder elm. A tale told of Shaun or Shem? All Livia's daughter- | 35 |
| sons. Dark hawks hear us. Night! Night! My ho head halls. I feel | 36 |