| interstipital indecency as between twineties and tapegarters. | 1 |
| fingerpats on fondlepets, under the couvrefeu act. It's the thin | 2 |
| end; wedge your steps! Your high powered hefty hoyden thinks | 3 |
| nothing of ramping through a whole suite of smokeless hus- | 4 |
| bands. Three minutes I'm counting you. Woooooon. No triching | 5 |
| now! Give me that when I tell you! Ragazza ladra! And is that | 6 |
| any place to be smuggling his madam's apples up? Deceitful | 7 |
| jade. Gee wedge! Begor, I like the way they're half cooked. | 8 |
| Hold, flay, grill, fire that laney feeling for kosenkissing disgeni- | 9 |
| cally within the proscribed limits like Population Peg on a hint or | 10 |
| twim clandestinely does be doing to Temptation Tom, atkings | 11 |
| questions in barely and snakking svarewords like a nursemagd. | 12 |
| While there's men-a'war on the say there'll be loves-o'women | 13 |
| on the do. Love through the usual channels, cisternbrothelly, | 14 |
| when properly disinfected and taken neat in the generable way | 15 |
| upon retiring to roost in the company of a husband-in-law or | 16 |
| other respectable relative of an apposite sex, not love that leads | 17 |
| by the nose as I foresmellt but canalised love, you understand, | 18 |
| does a felon good, suspiciously if he has a slugger's liver but I | 19 |
| cannot belabour the point too ardently (and after the lessions of | 20 |
| experience I speak from inspiration) that fetid spirits is the thief | 21 |
| of prurities, so none of your twenty rod cherrywhisks, me | 22 |
| daughter! At the Cat and Coney or the Spotted Dog. And at | 23 |
| 2bis Lot's Road. When parties get tight for each other they lose | 24 |
| all respect together. By the stench of her fizzle and the glib of her | 25 |
| gab know the drunken draggletail Dublin drab. You'll pay for | 26 |
| each bally sorraday night every billing sumday morning. When | 27 |
| the night is in May and the moon shines might. We won't meeth | 28 |
| in Navan till you try to give the Kellsfrieclub the goby. Hill or | 29 |
| hollow, Hull or Hague! And beware how you dare of wet cock- | 30 |
| tails in Kildare or the same may see your wedding driving home | 31 |
| from your wake. Mades of ashens when you flirt spoil the lad | 32 |
| but spare his shirt! Lay your lilylike long his shoulder but buck | 33 |
| back if he buts bolder and just hep your homely hop and heed | 34 |
| no horning but if you've got some brainy notion to raise cancan | 35 |
| and rouse commotion I'll be apt to flail that tail for you till it's | 36 |