Finnegans Wake - James Joyce [180]
BUTT (back to his peatrol and paump: swee Gee’s wee rest: no more applehooley: dodewodedook). Bruinoboroff, the hooney-moonger, and the grizzliest manmichal in Meideveide! Whose annal livves the hoiest!
For he devoused the lelias on the fined and he conforted samp, tramp and marchint out of the drumbume of a narse. Guards, serf Finnland, serve we all !
TAFF (whatwidth the psychophannies at the front and whetwadth the psuckofumbers beholden the fair, illcertain, between his bulchri-chudes and the roshashanaral, where he sees Bishop Ribboncake plus his pollex prized going forth on his visitations of mirrage or Miss Horizon, justso all our fannacies daintied her, on the curve of the camber, unsheathing a showlaced limbaloft to the great consternations). Divulge! Hyededye, kittyls, and howdeddoh, pan! Poshbott and pulbuties. See that we soll or let dargman be luna as strait a way as your ant’s folly me line while ye post is goang from Piping Pubwirth to Haunted Hillborough on his Mujiksy’s Zaravence, the Riss, the Ross, the sur of all Russers, as my farst file:///E|/Books/Top%20100%20Novels%20list/Finnegans%20Wake/complete.html[9/12/2007 12:21:58 PM]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
is near to hear and my sackend is meet to sedon while my whole’s a peer’s aureolies. We should say you dones the polecad. Bang on the booche, gurg in the gorge, rap on the roof and your flup is unbu... BUTT (at the signal of his act which seems to sharpnel his innermals menody, playing the spool of the little brown jog round the wheel of her whang goes the millner). Buckily buckily, blodestained boyne!
Bimbambombumb. His snapper was shot in the Rumjar Journaral. Why the gigls he lubbed beeyed him.
TAFF (obliges with a two stop yogacoga sumphoty on the bones or ivory girl and ebony boy). The balacleivka! Trovatarovitch! I trumble!
BUTT (with the sickle of a scygthe but the humour of a hummer, O, howorodies through his cholaroguled, fumfing to a fullfrength with this wallowing olfact). Mortar martar tartar wartar! May his boules grow wider so his skittles gets worse! The aged monad making a venture out of the murder of investment. I seen him acting surgent what betwinks the scimitar star and the ashen moon. By their lights shalthow throw him!
Piff paff for puffpuff and my pife for his cgar ! The mlachy way for gambling.
[Up to this curkscraw bind an admirable verbivocovisual pre-sentment of the worldrenownced Caerholme Event has been being given by The Irish Race and World. The huddled and aliven stablecrashers have shared fleetfooted enthusiasm with the paddocks dare and ditches tare while the mews was combing ground. Hippohopparray helioscope flashed winsor places as the gates might see. Meusdeus! That was (with burning briar) Mr Twomass Noho-holan for their common contribe satisfunction in the purports of amusedment telling the Verily Roverend Father Epiphanes shrineshriver of Saint Dhorough’s (in browne bomler) how (assuary as there’s a bonum in your osstheology!) Backlegs shirked the racing kenneldar. The saintly scholarist’s roastering guffalawd of nupersaturals holler at this metanoic excomologosis tells of the chestnut’s (once again, Wittyngtom!) absolutionally romptyhompty successfulness. A lot of lasses and lads without file:///E|/Books/Top%20100%20Novels%20list/Finnegans%20Wake/complete.html[9/12/2007 12:21:58 PM]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
damas or dads, but fresh and blued with collecting boxes. One aught spare ores triflets, to be shut: it is Coppingers for the children. Slippery Sam hard by them, physically present howsomedever morally absent, was slooching about in his knavish diamonds asking Gmax, Knox and the Dmuggies (a pinnance for your toughts, turffers!) to deck the ace of duds. Tomtinker Tim, howbeit, his unremitting retainer, (the seers are the seers of Samael but the heers are the heers of Timoth) is in Boozer’s Gloom, soalken steady in his sulken tents. Baldawl the curse, baledale the day! And the