-- Bappy-go-gully and gaff for us all! And all his morties calisenic, tripping a trepas, neniatwantyng: Mulo Mulelo! Homo Humilo! Dauncy a deady O! Dood dood dood! O Bawse! O Boese! O Muerther! O Mord! Mahmato! Moutmaro! O Smirtsch ! O Smertz ! Woh Hillill ! Woe Hallall ! Thou Thuoni I Thou Thaunaton! Umartir! Udamnor! Tschitt! Mergue! Eulumu! Huam Khuam! Malawinga! Malawunga! Ser Oh Ser! See ah See! Hamovs! Hemoves! Mamor! Rockquiem eternuel give donal aye in dolmeny ! Bat luck's perpepperpot loosen his eyis ! (Psich !).
-- But there's leps of flam in Funnycoon's Wick. The keyn has passed. Lung lift the keying!
-- God save you king! Muster of the Hidden Life!
-- God serf yous kingly, adipose rex ! I had four in the morning and a couple of the lunch and three later on, but your saouls to the dhaoul, do ye. Finnk. Fime. Fudd?
-- Impassable tissue of improbable liyers! D'yu mean to sett there where y'are now, coddlin your supernumerary leg, wi'that bizar tongue in yur tolkshap, and your hindies and shindies, like a muck in a market, Sorley boy, repeating yurself, and tell me that?
-- I mean to sit here on this altknoll where you are now, Surly guy, replete in myself, as long as I live, in my homespins, like a sleepingtop, with all that's buried ofsins insince insensed insidesofme. If I can't upset this pound of pressed ollaves I can sit up zounds of sounds upon him.
-- Oliver! He may be an earthpresence. Was that a groan or did I hear the Dingle bagpipes Wasting war and? Watch!
-- Tris tris a ni ma mea.! Prisoner of Love! Bleating Hart! Lowlaid Herd! Aubain Hand! Wonted Foot! Usque! Usque! Usque! Lignum in . . .
-- Rawth of Gar and Donnerbruck Fire? Is the strays world moving mound or what static babel is this, tell us?
-- Whoishe whoishe whoishe whoishe linking in? Whoishe whoishe whoishe?
-- The snare drum! Lay yer lug till the groun. The dead giant manalive! They're playing thimbles and bodkins. Clan of the Gael! Hop! Whu's within?
-- Dovegall and finshark, they are ring to the rescune !
-- Zinzin. Zinzin.
-- Crum abu! Cromwell to victory!
-- We'll gore them and gash them and gun them and gloat on them.
-- Zinzin.
-- O, widows and orphans, it's the yeomen! Redshanks for ever! Up Lancs!
-- The cry of the roedeer it is! The white hind. Their slots, linklink, the hound hunthorning ! Send us and peace ! Title ! Title !
-- Christ in our irish times! Christ on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman's chareman! Christ light the dully expressed!
-- Slog slagt and sluaghter! Rape the daughter! Choke the pope!
-- Aure ! Cloudy father ! Unsure ! Nongood !
-- Zinzin. -- Sold! I am sold! Brinabride! My ersther! My sidster! Brinabride, goodbye! Brinabride! I sold!
-- Pipette dear! Us! Us! Me! Me!
-- Fort! Fort! Bayroyt! March!
-- Me! I'm true. True! Isolde. Pipette. My precious!
-- Zinzin.
-- Brinabride, bet my price ! Brinabride !
-- My price, my precious?
-- Zin.
-- Brinabride, my price! When you sell get my price!
-- Zin.
-- Pipette ! Pipette, my priceless one !
-- O ! Mother of my tears ! Believe for me ! Fold thy son !
-- Zinzin. Zinzin.
-- Now we're gettin it. Tune in and pick up the forain counties ! Hello !
-- Zinzin.
-- Hello! Tittit! Tell your title?
-- Abride !
-- Hellohello! Ballymacarett! Am I thru' Iss? Miss? True?
-- Tit! What is the ti . . ?
SILENCE.
Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots!
-- Hello! Are you Cigar shank and Wheat?
-- I gotye. Gobble Ann's Carrot Cans.
-- Parfey. Now, after that justajiff siesta, just permit me a moment. Challenger's Deep is childsplay to this but, by our soundings in the swish channels, land is due. A truce to demobbed swarwords. Clear the line, priority call! Sybil! Better that or this? Sybil Head this end ! Better that way? Follow the baby spot. Yes. Very good now. We are again in the magnetic field. Do you remember on a particular lukesummer night, following a crying fair day? Moisten your lips for a lightning strike and begin again. Mind the flickers and dimmers! Better?
-- Well. The isles is Thymes. The ales is Penzance. Vehement Genral. Delhi expulsed.
-- Still calling of somewhave from its specific? Not more? Lesscontinuous. There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night. Better so?
-- You may say they were, son of a cove!
-- Were they bonfires? That clear?
-- No other name would at all befit them unless that. Bonafieries! With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.
-- Was it a high white night now?
-- Whitest night mortal ever saw.
-- Was our lord of the heights nigh our lady of the valley?
-- He was hosting himself up and flosting himself around and ghosting himself to merry her murmur like an andeanupper balkan.
-- Lewd's carol! Was there rain by any chance, mistandew?
-- Plenty. If you wend farranoch.
-- There fell some fall of littlewinter snow, holy-as-ivory, I gather, jesse?
-- By snaachtha clocka. The nicest at all. In hilly-and-even zimalayars.
-- Did it not blow some gales, westnass or ostscent, rather strongly to less, allin humours out of turn, jusse as they rose and sprungen?
-- Out of all jokes it did. Pipep! Icecold. Brr na brr, ny prr! Lieto galumphantes ! --Stll cllng! Nmr! Peace, Pacific! Do you happen to recollect whether Muna, that highlucky-nackt, was shining at all?
-- Sure she was, my midday darling ! And not one but a pair of pritty geallachers.
-- Quando? Quonda? Go datey!
-- Latearly! Latearly! Latearly! Latearly!