Complete Works of James Joyce (196 page)

BOOK: Complete Works of James Joyce
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No wonder Miss Dotsh took to veils and she descended from that

 

obloquohy.

 

The bookley with the rusin’s hat is Patomkin but I’m blowed if I knowed

 

who the slave is doing behind the curtain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One and Only, Unic bar None, of Saint Yves by Landsend corn-

 

 

wer, man — ship me silver!, it must have been, faw! a terrible

 

mavrue mavone, to synamite up the old Adam-he-used-to, such a

 

finalley, and that’s flat as Tut’s fut, for whowghowho? the poour

 

girl, a lonely peggy, given the bird, so inseuladed as Crampton’s

 

peartree, (she sall eurn bitter bed by thirt sweet of her face !), and

 

short wonder so many of the tomthick and tarry members in all

 

there subsequious ages of our timocracy tipped to console with her

 

at her mirrorable gracewindow’d hut 1 till the ives of Man, the

 

O’Kneels and the O’Prayins and the O’Hyens of Lochlaunstown

 

and the O’Hollerins of Staneybatter, hollyboys, all, burryripe

 

who’ll buy?,
2 in
juwelietry and kickychoses and madornaments

 

and that’s not the finis of it (would it were!) — but to think of him

 

foundling a nelliza the second, 3 also cliptbuss (the best was still

 

there if the torso was gone) where he did and when he did, re-

 

triever to the last 4 — escapes my forgetness now was it dust-

 

covered, nom de Lieu ! on lapse or street ondown, through, for or

 

from a foe, by with as on a friend, at the Rectory? Vicarage Road?

 

Bishop’s Folly? Papesthorpe?, after picket fences, stonewalls, out

 

and ins or oxers — for merry a valsehood whisprit he to manny a

 

lilying earling; 5 and to try to analyse that ambo’s pair of brace-

 

leans akwart the rollyon trying to amarm all 6 of that miching

 

micher’s bearded but insensible virility and its gaulish mous-

 

taches, Dammad and Groany, into her limited (tuff, tuff, que tu es

 

pitre !) lapse at the same slapse for towelling ends
7 in
their dolight-

 

ful Sexsex home, Somehow-at-Sea (O little oily head, sloper’s

 

brow and prickled ears !) as though he, a notoriety, a foist edition,

 

were a wrigular writher neonovene babe! 8 — well, diarmuee and

 

 

1 O hce! O hce!

 

 

2 Six and seven the League.

 

3 It’s all round me hat I’ll wear a drooping dido.

 

4 Have you ever thought of a hitching your stern and being ourdeaned,

 

Mester Bootenfly, here’s me and Myrtle is twinkling to know.

 

5 To show they caught preferment.

 

6 See the freeman’s cuticatura by Fennella.

 

7 Just one big booty’s pot.

 

8 Charles de Simples had an infirmierity complexe before he died a natural

 

death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

granyou and Vae Vinctis, that is what lamoor that of gentle

 

 

breast rathe is intaken seems circling toward out yondest (it’s

 

life that’s all chokered by that batch of grim rushers) heaven

 

help his hindmost and, mark mo, if the so greatly displeaced

 

diorems in the Saint Lubbock’s Day number of that most improv-

 

ing of roundshows, Spice and Westend Woman (utterly exhausted

 

before publication, indiapepper edition shortly), are for our in-

 

dices, it agins to pear like it,par my fay,and there is no use for your

 

pastripreaching for to cheesse it either or praying fresh fleshblood

 

claspers of young catholick throats on Huggin Green 1 to take

 

warning by the prispast, why?, by cows . man, in shirt, is how

 

he is pi- la gonna Š mobile and þ they wonet do ut; and, an you

 

could peep inside the cerebralised saucepan of this eer illwinded

 

goodfornobody, you would see in his house of thoughtsam (was

 

you, that is, decontaminated enough to look discarnate) what a

 

jetsam litterage of convolvuli of times lost or strayed, of lands

 

derelict and of tongues laggin too, longa yamsayore, not only that

 

but, search lighting, beached, bashed and beaushelled a la Mer

 

pharahead into faturity, your own convolvulis pickninnig capman

 

would real to jazztfancy the novo takin place of what stale words

 

whilom were woven with and fitted fairly featly for, so; and

 

equally so, the crame of the whole faustian fustian, whether your

 

launer’s lightsome or your soulard’s schwearmood, it is that,

 

whenas the swiftshut scareyss of our pupilteachertaut duplex will

 

hark back to lark to you symibellically that, though a day be as

 

dense as a decade, no mouth has the might to set a mearbound to

 

the march of a landsmaul,
2 in
half a sylb, helf a solb, holf a salb on-

 

ward 3 the beast of boredom, common sense, lurking gyrographi-

 

cally down inside his loose Eating S.S. collar is gogoing of

 

whisth to you sternly how — Plutonic loveliaks twinnt Platonic

 

yearlings — you must, how, in undivided reawlity draw the line

 

somewhawre)

 

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