Finnegans Wake - James Joyce [182]
TAFF (though the unglucksarsoon is giming for to git him, jotning in, hoghly ligious, hapagodlap, like a soldierry sap, with a pique at his cue and a tyr in his eye and a bond of his back and a croak in his cry as did jolly well harm lean o’er him) Is not athug who would. Weepon, weeponder, song of sorrowmon ! Which goatheye and sheepskeer they damnty well know. Papaist! Gambanman! Take the cawraidd’s blow! Yia!
Your partridge’s last!
BUTT (giving his scimmianised twinge in acknuckledownedgment of this cumulikick, strafe from the firetrench, studenly drobs led, sa-toniseels ouchyotchy, he changecors induniforms as he is lefting the gat out of the big: his face glows green, his hair greys white, his bleyes bcome broon to suite his cultic twalette). But when I seeing him in his oneship fetch along within hail that tourrible tall with his nitshnykopfgoknob and attempting like a brandylogged rudeman cathargic, lugging up and laiding down his livepelts so cruschinly like Mebbuck at Messar and expousing his old skinful self tailtottom by manurevring in open ordure to renew-murature with the cowruads in their airish pleasantry I thanked he was recovering breadth from some herdsquatters beyond the carcasses and I couldn’t erver nerver to tell a liard story not of I knew the prize if from lead or alimoney. But when I got inoccu-pation of a full new of his old basemiddelism, in ackshan, pagne pogne, by the veereyed lights of the stormtrooping clouds and in the sheenflare of the battleaxes of the heroim and mid the shieldfails awail of the bitteraccents of the sorafim and caught the pfierce tsmell of his aurals, orankastank, a suphead setrapped, like Peder the Greste, altipaltar, my bill it forsooks allegiance (gut bull it!) and, no lie is this, I was babbeing and yetaghain bubbering, bibbelboy, me marrues me shkewers me gnaas me fiet, tob tob tob beat it, solongopatom..Clummensy if ever mis-used, must used you’s now! But, meac Coolp, Arram of Eirze— rum, as I love our Deer Dirouchy, I confesses withould pride— jealice when I looked upon the Saur of all the Haurousians with the weight of his arge fullin upon him from the travaillings of his tommuck and rueckenased the fates of a bosser there was fear on me the sons of Nuad for him and it was heavy he was for me then the way I immingled my Irmenial hairmaierians ammon-gled his Gospolis fomiliours till, achaura moucreas, I adn’t the arts to. TAFF (as a marrer off act, prepensing how such waldmanns from Burnias seduced country clowns, he is preposing barangaparang after going knowing what he is doing after to see him pluggy well moidered as a file:///E|/Books/Top%20100%20Novels%20list/Finnegans%20Wake/complete.html[9/12/2007 12:21:58 PM]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
murder effect, you bet your blowie knife, before he doze soze, sopprused though he is) Grot Zot ! You hidn’t the hurts? Vott Fonn !
BUTT (hearing somrother sudly give tworthree peevish sniff snuff snoores like govalise falseleep he waitawhishts to see might he stirs and then goes on kuldrum like without asking for pepeace or anysing a soul). Merzmard! I met with whom it was too late. My fate! O hate! Fairwail!
Fearwealing of the groan! And think of that when you smugs to bagot. TAFF (who meanwhilome at yarn’s length so as to put a nodje in the poestcher, by wile of stoccan his hand and of rooma makin ber getting umptyums gatherumed off the skattert, had been lavishing, lagan on lighthouse, words of silent power, susu glouglou biri— biri gongos, upon the repleted speechsalver’s innkeeping right which, thanks giveme and naperied norms nonobstaclant, there can be little doubt, have resulted in a momstchance ministring of another guid-ness, my good, to see) Bompromifazzio! Shumpum for Pa-li-di and oukosouso for the nipper dandy! Trink off this scup and be bladdy orafferteed! To bug at?
BUTT (he whipedoff’s his chimbley phot, as lips lovecurling to the tongueopener, he takecups the communion