Finnegans Wake - James Joyce [114]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
Armoricus Tristram Amoor Saint Lawrence; a guillotine shirt for Reuben Redbreast and hempen suspendeats for Bren-nan on the Moor; an oakanknee for Conditor Sawyer and mus— quodoboits for Great Tropical Scott; a C3 peduncle for Karma— lite Kane; a sunless map of the month, including the sword and stamps, for Shemus O’Shaun the Post; a jackal with hide for Browne but Nolan; a stonecold shoulder for Donn Joe Vance; all lock and no stable for Honorbright Merreytrickx; a big drum for Billy Dunboyne; a guilty goldeny bellows, below me blow me, for Ida Ida and a hushaby rocker, Elletrouvetout, for Who-is-silvier — Where-ishe?; whatever you like to swilly to swash, Yuinness or Yennessy, Laagen or Niger, for Festus King and Roaring Peter and Frisky Shorty and Treacle Tom and O. B. Behan and Sully the Thug and Master Magrath and Peter Cloran and O’Delawarr Rossa and Nerone MacPacem and whoever you chance to meet knocking around; and a pig’s bladder balloon for Selina Susquehanna Stakelum. But what did she give to Pruda Ward and Katty Kanel and Peggy Quilty and Briery Brosna and Teasy Kieran and Ena Lappin and Muriel Maassy and Zusan Camac and Melissa Bradogue and Flora Ferns and Fauna Fox–Good-man and Grettna Greaney and Penelope Inglesante and Lezba Licking like Leytha Liane and Roxana Rohan with Simpatica Sohan and Una Bina Laterza and Trina La Mesme and Philomena O’Farrell and Irmak Elly and Josephine Foyle and Snakeshead Lily and Fountainoy Laura and Marie Xavier Agnes Daisy Frances de Sales Macleay? She gave them ilcka madre’s daughter a moonflower and a bloodvein: but the grapes that ripe before reason to them that devide the vinedress. So on Izzy, her shame-maid, love shone befond her tears as from Shem, her penmight, life past befoul his prime. My colonial, wardha bagful! A bakereen’s dusind with tithe tillies to boot. That’s what you may call a tale of a tub ! And Hi-bernonian market! All that and more under one crinoline enve— lope if you dare to break the porkbarrel seal. No wonder they’d run from her pison plague. Throw us your hudson soap for the honour of Clane! The wee taste the water left. I’ll raft it back, first thing in the marne. Merced mulde! Ay, and don’t forget the reckitts I lohaned you. You’ve all the swirls your side of the current. Well, am I to blame for that if I have? Who said you’re to blame for that if you have? You’re a bit on the sharp side. I’m on the wide. Only snuffers’ cornets drifts my way that the cracka dvine chucks out of his cassock, with her estheryear’s marsh narcissus to make him recant his vanitty fair. Foul strips of his chinook’s bible I do be reading, dodwell disgustered but chickled with chuckles at the tittles is drawn on the tattlepage. Senior ga dito: Faciasi Omo! E omo fu fo. Ho! Ho! Senior ga dito: Faciasi Hidamo! Hidamo se ga facess…. Ha! Ha! And Die Windermere Dichter and Lefanu (Sheridan’s) old House by the Coachyard and Mill (J.) On Woman with Ditto on the Floss. Ja, a swamp file:///E|/Books/Top%20100%20Novels%20list/Finnegans%20Wake/complete.html[9/12/2007 12:21:58 PM]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
for Alt-muehler and a stone for his flossies ! I know how racy they move his wheel. My hands are blawcauld between isker and suda like that piece of pattern chayney there, lying below. Or where is it? Lying beside the sedge I saw it. Hoangho, my sorrow, I’ve lost it! Aimihi! With that turbary water who could see? So near