Complete Works of James Joyce (204 page)

Mr

Tellibly Divilcult!

2 When the dander rattles how the peacocks prance!

3 The Brownes de Browne - Browne of Castlehacknolan.

wan’s won! Rip! 1 And his countinghands

WITH EBONISER.

Service super-

rose.

IN PIX.

seding self.

Formalisa. Loves deathhow simple!

EUCHRE

Catastrophe and

Slutningsbane. 2

RISK, MERCI BUCKUP, AND

Anabasis.

Thanks eversore much, Pointcarried ! I can’t

MIND WHO

The rotary pro-

say if it’s the weight you strike me to the

YOU’RE

cessus and its

quick or that red mass I was looking at but at

PUCKING,

reestablishment

the present momentum, potential as I am, I’m

FLEBBY.

of reciprocities.

seeing rayingbogeys rings round me. Honours

to you and may you be commended for our

exhibitiveness! I’d love to take you for a

bugaboo ride and play funfer all if you’d only

sit and be the ballasted bottle in the porker

barrel. You will deserve a rolypoly as long

as from here to tomorrow. And to hell with

them driftbombs and bottom trailers! If my

maily was bag enough I’d send you a toxis.

By Saxon Chromaticus, you done that lovely

for me! Didn’t he now, Nubilina? Tiny Mite,

she studiert whas? With her listeningin coif-

fure, her dream of Endsland’s daylast and the

glorifires of being presainted maid to majesty. 3

And less is the pity for she isn’t the lollypops

she easily might be if she had for a sample

Virginia’s air of achievement. That might

keep her from throwing delph. 4 As I was saying,

while retorting thanks, you make me a reborn

of the cards. We’re offals boys ambows. 5

For I’ve flicked up all the crambs as they

crumbed from your table um, singing glory

allaloserem, cog it out, here goes a sum. So

1 A
byebye bingbang boys! See you Nutcracker Sunday!

2 Chinchin Childaman! Chapchopchap!

3 Wipe your glosses with what you know.

4 If I’d more in the cups that peeves thee you could cracksmith your

rows

tureens.

5 Alls Sings and Alls Howls.

The Twofold

read we in must book. It tells. He prophets

COME SI

Truth and the

most who bilks the best.

COMPITA

Conjunctive Ap-

And that salubrated sickenagiaour of yaours

CUNCTITI-

petites of Oppo-

have teaspilled all my hazeydency. Forge away,

TITILATIO?

sitional Orexes.

Sunny Sim! Sheepshopp. Bleating Goad, it is

CONKERY

Trishagion.

the least of things, Eyeinstye! Imagine it, my

CUNK,

deep dartry dullard! It is hours giving, not

THIGH-

more. I’m only out for celebridging over the

THIGHT-

guilt of the gap in your hiscitendency. You are

TICKELLY-

a hundred thousand times welcome, old wort-

THIGH, LIG-

sampler, hellbeit you’re just about as culpable

GERILAG,