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And Since We Are Talking
Roger Doyle
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And since we are talking amnessly of brukasloop crazedledaze, who doez in sleeproom number twobis?
The twobirds
Holy policeman, O, I see!
Of what age are your birdies?
They are to come of twinning age so soon as they may be born to be eldering like those olders while they are living under chairs
They are and they seem to be so tightly tattached as two maggots to touch other, I think I notice, do I not?
You do
Our bright bull babe Frank Kevin is on heartsleeveside
Do not you waken him!
Our farheard bode
He is happily to sleep, limb of the Lord, with his lifted in blessing, his buchel Iosa, like the blissed angel he looks so like and his mou is semiope as though he were blowdelling on a bugigle
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Whene'er I see those smiles in eyes 'tis Father Quinn again
Very shortly he will smell sweetly when he will hear a weird to wean
By gorgeous, that boy will blare some knight when he will take his dane's pledges and quit our ingletears, spite of undesirable parents, to wend him to Amorica to quest a cashy job
That keen dean with his veen nonsolance!
O, I adore the profeen music!
Dollarmighty!
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He is too audorable really, eunique!
I guess to have seen somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam to whom he will be becoming liker
But hush!
How unpardonable of me!
I beg for your venials, sincerely I do
Hush!
The other, twined on codliverside, has been crying in his sleep, making sharpshape his inscissors on some first choice sweets fished out of the muck
A stake in our mead
What a teething wretch!
How his book of craven images!
Here are posthumious tears on his intimelle
And he has pipettishly bespilled himself from his foundingpen as illspent from inkinghorn
He is jem job joy pip poo pat (jot um for a sobrat!) Jerry Jehu
You will know him by name in the capers but you cannot see whose heel he sheepfolds in his wrought hand because I have not told it to you
O, foetal sleep!
Ah, fatal slip!
the one loved, the other left, the bride of pride leased to the stranger!
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