| haunt of the hungred bordles, as it is told me. Shop Illicit, |
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| flourishing like a lordmajor or a buaboabaybohm, litting flop |
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| a deadlop (aloose!) to lee but lifting a bennbranch a yardalong |
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| (Ivoeh!) the breezy side (for showm!), the height of Brew- |
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| ster’s chimpney and as broad below as Phineas Barnum; humph- |
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| ing his share of the showthers is senken on him he’s such a |
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| grandfallar, with a pocked wife in pickle that’s a flyfire and three |
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| lice nittle clinkers, two twilling bugs and one midgit pucelle. |
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| And aither he cursed and recursed and was everseen doing what |
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| your fourfootlers saw or he was never done seeing what you cool- |
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| pigeons know, weep the clouds aboon for smiledown witnesses, |
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| and that’ll do now about the fairyhees and the frailyshees. |
|
| Though Eset fibble it to the zephiroth and Artsa zoom it round |
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| her heavens for ever. Creator he has created for his creatured |
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| ones a creation. White monothoid? Red theatrocrat? And all the |
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| pinkprophets cohalething? Very much so! But however ’twas |
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| ’tis sure for one thing, what sherif Toragh voucherfors and |
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| Mapqiq makes put out, that the man, Humme the Cheapner, |
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| Esc, overseen as we thought him, yet a worthy of the naym, |
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| came at this timecoloured place where we live in our paroqial |
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| fermament one tide on another, with a bumrush in a hull of a |
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| wherry, the twin turbane dhow, The Bey for Dybbling, this |
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| archipelago’s first visiting schooner, with a wicklowpattern |
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| waxenwench at her prow for a figurehead, the deadsea dugong |
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| updipdripping from his depths, and has been repreaching him- |
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| self like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi |
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| by his shide, adi and aid, growing hoarish under his turban and |
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| changing cane sugar into sethulose starch (Tuttut’s cess to him!) |
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| as also that, batin the bulkihood he bloats about when innebbi- |
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| ated, our old offender was humile, commune and ensectuous |
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| from his nature, which you may gauge after the bynames was |
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| put under him, in lashons of languages, (honnein suit and |
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| praisers be!) and, totalisating him, even hamissim of himashim |
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| that he, sober serious, he is ee and no counter he who will be |
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| ultimendly respunchable for the hubbub caused in Eden- |
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| borough. |
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April 10, 2008 at 2:45 pm
Thanks for one-page-at-time!
Good Lord– I just finished reading Finnegan’s Wake, about three weeks ago.Feels like someone blew the lid of my mind. . .
It’s genius work to say the least. it’s practically a sentient being. I just blogged about it on my own site, and can’t stop talking to friends about it . . . I think I need a support/reading group.
Thanks again for the post, and your dedication to THE WAKE.
–electronrings
etherealwear.blogspot.com