Finnegans Wake - James Joyce [306]
Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce
Vedette, peg of his claim and pride of her heart, cliffscaur grisly but rockdove cooing, hodinstag on fryggabet, baron and feme: that he may dishcover her that she may uncouple him, that one may come and crumple them, that they may soon recoup themselves: now and then, time on time again, as per periodicity; from Neaves to Willses, from Bushmills to Enos; to Goerz from Harleem, to Hearths of Oak from Skittish Widdas; via mala, hyber pass, heckhisway per alptrack: through lands-vague and vain, after many mandelays: in their first case, to the next place, till their cozenkerries: the high and the by, both pent and plain: cross cowslips yillow, yellow, yallow, past pumpkins pinguind, purplesome: be they whacked to the wide other tied to hustings, long sizzleroads neath arthruseat, him to the derby, her to toun, til sengentide do coddlam: in the grounds or unter-linnen: rue to lose and ca canny: at shipside, by convent garden: monk and sempstress, in sackcloth silkily: curious dreamers, curious dramas, curious deman, plagiast dayman, playajest dearest, plaguiest dourest: for the strangfort planters are prodesting, and the karkery felons dryflooring it and the leperties’ laddos railing the way, blump for slogo slee!
Stop! Did a stir? No, is fast. On to bed! So he is. It’s only the wind on the road outside for to wake all shivering shanks from snorring. But. Oom Godd his villen, who will he be, this mitryman, some king of the yeast, in his chrismy greyed brunzewig, with the snow in his mouth and the caspian asthma, so bulk of build? Relics of pharrer and livite! Dik Gill, Tum Lung or Macfinnan’s cool Harryng? He has only his hedcosycasket on and his wollsey shirtplisse with peascod doublet, also his feet wear doubled width socks for he always must to insure warm sleep between a pair of fullyfleeced bankers like a finnoc in a cauwl. Can thus be Misthra Norkmann that keeps our hotel? Begor, Mr O’Sorgmann, you’re looking right well ! Hecklar’s champion ethnicist. How deft as a fuchser schouws daft as a fish! He’s the dibble’s own doges for doublin existents! But a jolly fine daysent form of one word. He’s rounding up on his family.
And who is the bodikin by him, sir? So voulzievalsshie? With ybbs and zabs? Her trixiestrail