Mixed draft/fair copy, July 1927, I.6§1 draft level 1

MS British Library 47473 185-6, 156-168 Draft details

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Who do you k no to nigh, |1lazy and gentleman lazyandgentleman1|?

The echo is where in the back of the wodes; call him forth.

(Shaun MacIrevick, briefdragger, for the concern of Messrs Jhon Jhamieson and Song, rated one hundrick and thin per storehundred on this nightly quisquiquock of the twelve apostrophes set by Jockit MicEreweak. He misunderstruck an aim of number three of them and left his |1correct replies free natural |aretorts ripostesa|1| to four of them in their own |1natural fine artful1| disorder)

1. What secondtonone myther rector and maximost bridgesmaker was the first to rise taller through his beanstale than the bluegum baobabbaum, or the gigantieuss Wellingtonia Sequoia, went nudiboots |1with trouters1| into a liffeyette when she was barely in her trickliesº, was well known to |1clout claud1| a conciliation cap onto the esker of his hooth, sports a chainganger's albert |1solemenly1| over his hullender's epulence, |1|athought he weighed a new ton when |bhe felt there felledb| his first lapapple,a| gave the heinousness of choice to |aeveryman everyknighta| between yesterdicks and twomaries,1| had sevenal successivecoloured serevanmaids on the same big white drawingroam horthrug, |1is a Willbeforce to this hour at house as he was in heather, pumped the catholick wartrey and shocked the prodestung boyne,1| killed his own hungery self as a young man in anger, found fodder for five when allmarken was goflooded, bred manyheaded stepasons for one leapyourown taughter, |1is too funny for a fish and has too much outside for an insect, |abears a raaven gueulant on a fjeld duiv,a|1| wore a halo to his valet and appeared to a shecook, pressed the beer of aled age out of the nettles of rashness, put a roof on the lodge for Hymn and a coq in his pot for homo,
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was waylaid by a parker and beshotten by a buckeley, kicks lintils when he's cuppy and casts Jacob's blank dime after dime to poor childer on his parish, |1soaps you soft to your face and slaps himself when he's badend, |alikes a six acup pudding when he's come whome, sweet whome,a|1| owns the bulgiest bungbarrel that was ever tiptapped in the privace of the Mullingar Inn, |1|awas born with a nuasilvar tongue in his mouthe and went round the coast of Iron with his left hand to the seen, lifted up but two fingers yet smelt it |bwas wouldb| day, |bfor whom it is easier to found a see in Ebblannah than for I or you to find a dubbletye in Dampsterdump, to live with whom is a lifemayor and to know him a liberal education,b|a| was dipped in Hoily Olives and chrysmed in Scent Otools,1| hears cricket on the earth but annoys the life out of predicants, |1still turns the dure's ear of Darius to the now thoroughly infuriated man of God,1| made Man with juts |1one that1| jerk and minted money mong many, was dubbed out of joke and limned in raw ochre, |1has come through all the eras of lifsadventure from noonshine and schaumpaying down to clouts and pottled porter, with one touch of nature set a veiled world agrin and went within a sheet of tissuepaper of the option of three gaols, |awho could see at one blick a salmon killed with a spear, hunters pursuing a deer, a |bship swallowshipb| in full sail and a whiterobe lifting a host,a| faced flappery like old King Cnut and turned his back like Cincinnatus, is a |afarfar and morefar and aa| hoar father Nakedbucker in villas old as new, sits aquart and cracks acquaint when it's flaggin in town and on haven,1| blows whiskery around the head but thinks stout upon his feet, stutters fore he falls and goes mad entirely when he's waked, is Timb to the pearly morn and Tomb by the mourning night, and an he had the best baked bricks in bould Babylon for his lustingplays he'd be lost for the want of an ould wubblin wall?

Answer — Finn MacCool!

2. Does your mutter know your mike?

Answer — When I turn me optics,

|11| |1From from1| such urban prospects|1,1| 'tis my filial bosom's, doth behold with pride, that pontificator, and circumvallator, with his dam |1right night1| garrulous, |1close slipt1| by his side. Ann alive, the lisp of her, Would grig mountains whisper her, and the bergs of Iceland, melt in waves of fire, and her spoon-me-spondees, and her |1drickle-me-dondees drickle-me-ondenees1|, make the rageous Ossian kneel and quaff a lyre. If Dann's dane, Ann's dirty, if he's plane she's purty, if he's fane, she's flirty, with her auburnt streams, and her coy cajoleries, and her dabblin drolleries, for to rouse his rudderup,
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or to drench his dreams. If hot Hammurabi and cowld Clesiastes, could espy her pranklings, they'd break bounds |1again agin1|, and renounce their ruings and denounce their doings, for river and iver, and a night. |1Amen! Amin!1|

3 — Which title is the true-to-type motto-in-lieu for that Tick for Teac thatchment |1painted witt weth one one darkness,1| |1where asnake is under clover and birds aprowl are in the rookeries and a magda went to monkishouse and a riverpaard was spotted,1| which is not Whichcroft Whorort not Ousterholm Dreyschluss not Haraldsby, grocer, not Vatandcan, vintner, not Houseboat and Hive, not Knox-atta-Belle not O'Faynix Coalprince not Wohn Squarr Roomyeck not Ebblawn Downes not Le Decer Le Mieux not Benjamin's Lea not Tholomew's Whaddingtun gnot Antwarp |1not Thermopyle gnat Musca1| not Corry's |1gnot not1| Weir's |1gnat nat1| The Arch not The Smug not The Dotch House not The Uval nothing Grand nothing Splendid (Grahot or Spletel) nayther Erat Est Erit noor Non michi sed lucefro?

Answer — Thine obesity, O civilian, hits the felicitude of our orb!

4. What Irish capitol city (a dea o dea!) of two syllables and six letters, with a deltic origin and a nuinous end, (ah dust oh dust!), can boost of having a) the most extensive public park in the world, b) the most expensive brewing industry in the world, c) the most expansive peopling thoroughfare in the world, d) the most hippo phillohippuc theobibbous paupulation in the world?

Answer — a) Delfas. And when ye'll hear the hommers of my heart, my floxy loss, bingbanging again the ribs of yer resistance and the tenderbolts of
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my rivets working to your destraction ye'll be sheverin wi' all yer dinful sobs for the day when we'll go riding a cope-a-curly, you with yer orange garland and me with my conny cordial, down the greaseways of rollicking into the waters of wetted life. b) Dorhqk. And sure where can you have such good old chimes anywhere, and leave you, and how 'tis I would be engaging you with my plovery soft accents and descanting upover the scene beunder me of your loose vines in their hairafall with them two loving loofs braceleting the slims of your ankles and your mouth's flower rose and sinking ofter the soapstone of speech. c) Nublid. Isha, why wouldn't we be happy, avourneen, on the mills money he'll soon be leaving you as soon as I've my own owned st brooklined Georgian mansion's lawn to recruit upon by Doctor Cheek's special orders and my panful of soybeans and Irish in my east hand and a James's Gate in my west, after all the errears and erroriboose of embottled history, and your goodself churning over the newleaved butter (more power to you!), the choicest and the cheapest from Atlanta to Oconee, while I'll be drowsing in the gaarden. d) Dalway. I hooked my thoroughgoing trotty the first down Spanish Place, Mayo I make, Tuam I take, Sligo's sin but
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Galway's grace. Holy eel and sainted salmon, chucking chub and ducking dace, I never felt your aequal! says she, leppin half the lane.

5. Whad slags of a loughladd would retten smuttyflesks, emptout old mans, melk vitious geit, scare off jackinjills |1fra tiddle anding1|, smoothpick waste papish pastures, sprink dirted water, bear around village, |1newses, tobaggon and |aswedes sweedsa|,1| louden on the kirkpeal, foottreats given to malafides, |1outskriek |ayelp yelp or hyelp hyelp nora| his hair the efter |abuggelers buggelerrsa|1|, might underhold three barnets, putzpolish all bottes, nightcover all firelights, serve's time till |1boss baass1|, grindstone his knivses, full fullest boarded, lewd man of the method in godliness, perchance he |1now nieuws and thans1| sits in the spoorwaggen, |1will, on advice, blank1| must begripe fallstandingly irer'sº langurge, jublander or northquain bigger prefurred, may get earnst, no get combitch, profusional drinklords to please obstain, he is fatherlow soundigged inmoodmined pershoon but aleconnermon, ney, that must he isn't?

Answer: Pore ole Joe!

6. What means the saloon slogan Summon In the Housesweep Dinah!?

Answer: |1Gelory Galory1| bit of the sales of Cloth nowand I have to beeswax the bringing in all the muck of the parks to us a nd I thawght I knew his stain on the flower|1|a, O if my ash and can could |bspeakb| and he called by |bmy meb| midden namea| I am your honey honeysugle pwhtpwht |aDe Baya|1| and who broke the dandleass |1and who seen the blackcullen jam |afor Tomorrha's picknick I hope it'll pour prais the climate of all Irelanda|1| and who |1seen eight1| the last of the goosebellies |1that was moulding from hoofincoff years1| and who leff
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that there and who put that there |1and who let the kilkenny stale the chop1| and who was it you was it propped the pot in the yard and whatinthe |1nameofsin nameofsen1| lukeareyou rubbingthe sideofthe flowerofthe lobbywith Shite will you have a plateful!

7) Who are those component partners of our societate|1, the |adoorman doorboya|, the |aboiler cleanera|, the sojer, the thief, the squeezer, the lounger, the |akennelman curmana|, the tourabout, the mushroomsniffer, the bleakablue tramp, the funf funpowtherplother, the christymansboxer, from their pré salés and Donnybrook |apunread pratera| and Roebuck's campos and the ager Arountown and Crumglen's grassy but Kimmage's champ |aand Ashtown fields and Cabra fields and Finglas fields and Santry fields and the feels of Raheny and their fails and Baldoyle to thema|1| who are latecomers |1all the years round1| by anticipation, are the porters of the passions in virtue of |1ratiocination retroratiocination1|, and, |1contributing contributting1| their conflingent controversies of differentiation, unify their voxes in a vote of vaticination, who crunch the crusts of comfort due to depredation, drain the |1meed mead1| for misery to incur intoxication, condone every evil by practical justification and condemn any good |1for to1| its own gratification,º who are ruled, roped, duped and driven by those angel demons, the feekeepers of their laws, |1dail nightly1| consternation, |1fortnightly1| fornication, |1commiseration monthly miserecordation1| and |1annual1| recreation |1Matey, Teddy, Simon, Jorn, Pedhar, Andy, Barty, Philly, Jamey Mor and Tom, Matt and Jakes |aMacCarthy MacCortya|1|?

Answer: The |1murphies Morphies1|!

8) And how war yore maggies?

Answer: They war loving, they love laughing, they laugh weeping, they weep smelling, they smell smiling, they smile hating, they hate thinking, they think feeling, they feel tempting, they tempt daring, they dare waiting, they wait taking, they take thanking, they thank seeking
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, as born for lorn in lore of love to live and wive by wile and rile by rule of |1ruse made rose ruse 'reathed rose1| and hone hose |1held hol'd1| home, but cometh Elopeyear elope year, coach and four, Sweet Peck-at-my-Heart picks one man more.

9). Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, if a human being duly fatigued by the his dayety in the sooty, having plenxty off time on his gouty hands and vacants of space at his sleepish feet, and as hapless |1beyond behind1| the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk, wereº at this auctual futule preteriting unstant, in the states of suspensive exanimation, accorded, through the eye of a noodle, with an earsighted view of old hopeinhaven with all the ingredient and egregiunt wights and ways to which in the curse of his |1persistence persistemce1| the course of his tory will had been having recourses, the reverberration of knotcracking awes, the reconjungation of nodebinding ayes, the redissolusingness of mindmouldered ease and the thereby hang of the Hoel of it, could such a none, whiles
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even led comesilencers to comeliewithhers and till intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spot lucan's dawn, byhold at ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, the sap rising, the foles falling, the nimb now nihilant round the girlyhead so becoming, the wrestless in the womb, all the rivals to allsea, shakeagain, O disaster!, shakealose, ah how starring!, but Heng's got a bit of Horsa's nose and Jeff's got the signs of Ham round his mouth and the beau that |1was spun1| beautiful pales as it palls, what roserude and oragious grows gelb and greem, blue out the ind of it!, Violet's dyed!, then what would that fargazer seem to seemself toº seeming of, dimn it all?

Answer. A |1collidorscape collideorscape1|!

10) What bitter's love but yurning, what' sour lovemutch but a bref burning till shee that drawes dothe smoake retourne?

Answer: I know, pepette, of course, dear, but listen, precious! Thanks, pette, those are lovely, delicious!
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But mind the wind, sweet! What exquisite hands you have|1, you angel,1| if you didn't gnaw your nails |1isn't it a wonder you're not ashamed of me,1| you pig|1, you perfect little pig1|! I bet you use her best French cream to make them look so rosetop glowstop nostop. When I think of that Dan Hishon, the foodbrawler, of the sociationist party and all his fourteen other maulers. Stoop a little closer, fealse! Delicious simply,! I haven't fell so turkish for ages and ages! Why, what are they all, the mucky lot of them only? Peppt! That's right, hold it steady! Poo! Listen, loviest! Of course it was too kind of you, miser, to remember my sighs in shockings and I'll always in always remind of them with my very best gloves even if he was to be vermillion |1times my age miles my youth1| to live on, creaking around on his old axle like a crosty old cornquake. I'm fine, thanks ever! O mind you poo fingies! Mummum! I'm terribly sorry, I swear to you I am! May you never see me in my birthday pelts figure how I sleep |1gracefully1| in my birthday pelts and that that her blanches mainges may rot leprous off her whatever winking |1whore maggis1| I'll bet by your cut you go chasting after with jumps in her stomewhere! Of course I know, pettest, you're so learningful and considerate in yourself, you long cold cat you! |1Please too meek my acquointance!1| Codling, snakelet, icicle! My diaper has more life to it!
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Who drowned you, |1man inkman1| !? Can't you read my dazzled eyes through me? Count all your quick of my rhythmic ticks, pore into me, volumes, spell me stark and spill me swooning, transname my loveliness, now me and here me for all times! I'd risk a pulleaseman passing by. |1Maher or even blank1| The flame? O pardone! That is what? Ah did you speak, |1stuckup stuffstuff1|? |1More poet poestries from Sakespeare's?1| |1Hell Holy bug1|, how |1I'd my highness would1| jump to make you flame your half a banana too when I'd run my blazing torchlight through your hairymajig if you had one! |1If I am laughing with you?1| No, lovingest, I'm not to dying to take a rise out of you. It's only because I'm only any girl|1, you lovely fellow of my dreams,1| and because old someone is not roundabout |1my trysting of the tulips1| and because|1, you lankelot,1| I hate the very thought of the thought of you and because, |1darling dearling1|, of course, dearest, I was always meant for an engineer |1which please business won't be long1|. I beg your pardon, I was listening to every word I said fell from your lips |1otherwise how can I see what you're thinking?1| Move your mouth towards me. More, more on more, don't be a, I'm not going to. |1Sh! Nothing. A cricri somewhere. |aBuybuy! I'm fly!a| Let them. Let them all. In the limelight, O my |adarling dawrlinga|!1| No, I swear to you by all I hold secret |1and goddesst1| in this world and in my underworld andº the other |1wonderworld wonderwearld1|! Close your, mustn't look, now open, pet, your lips, pepette, like I used |1to do my sweet parted |alips lispsa|1| with Dan. Holohan taught me, |1pipetta mia |awhen you learnt me the |btongue, I linguo, tob|a| melt.1| Wholohan will have ears like ours|1., the blackhaird!1| Do you like that, |1silenziosus silenziosa1|? Are you
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enjoying, my life, my love? Is it not divinely delicious? |1Misi, misi!1| I am enjoying it still, I swear I am! Why do you prefer it in this dark, if I may ask, my sweety? |1|aSh! Shsh!a| Longears is flying.1| No, sweetest, why would that annoy me but don't! Your lips, love, be careful! Mind my dress above all! So, so, my precious! If I sell who, dear? |1How awful!1| I wouldn't for all the jewels |1above us in the twinkly way1|! Shshsh! Don't start like that, you wretch! I thought you knew all and more|1., ye auchthor!1| It's only another queer fish in the damned old river again|1., God bless us and spare her!1| Excuse me for swearing, love! I swear I didn't mean to! Did you really never |1in all our lives1| speak clothse to |1girl a girls1| before? |1No! How mawfellous!1| Of course I believe you, you my own dear darling liar, when you tell me.º Never |1that I can ever remember1|! never Never in all my whole sweet |1life light |aof a pair of matchless and all paira|1|! |1Always, till Always, Amory amor andmore! Till1| always! |1thou Thou lovest! |aShshshsh!a|1| As long as the lucksmith laughs!

11) If you met on the binge a poor acheseyeled from Ailing, when the tune of his tremble shook shimmy on shin, while his s contrary soughed in the weak of his wailing, like a rugilant pugilant Lyon O'Lynn; if he maundered in misliness plaining his plight or, |1picking upup his lousies or played fox and lice, picking and1| dropping hips teeth, or wringing his handcuffs for peace, the blind blighter, praying
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Dieuf and Domb Nostrums for thomethings thomethinks to eath; if he weapt while he leapt and guffalled quith a quhimper, made cold blood a blue mundy and no bones without flech, taking kiss, kake or kick with a suck, sigh or simper, a diffle to larn and a dibble to lech; if the |1vain fain1| shinner pegged you to shave his immartial, |1sore wee1| skillmustered shoul with his |1Ho! Howdoodoo! ooh, hoodoodoo!1|, broking wind that to wiles woemaid sin he was partial, we don't think, Joahn, Jones, we'd care to this evening, would you?

Answer: No, blank ye! But before proceeding to conclusively confute this begging question it would be far fitter for you, if you dare!, to |1hasitate to1| consult with and consequentially attempt at my disposals of the same dime-cash problem elsewhere, naturalistically, of course, from the blinkpoint of so eminent a spatialist. From it you will here notice, Schott, upon my for the first remarking you that the sophology of Bitchson while driven as under by a purely dime-dime urge is not with out his cash-cash characktericksticks, borrowed for its nonce ends
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from the fiery goodmother Miss Fortune (who |1the lost time we had the pleasure1| we have had our little |1private recherché1| brush with, what, Schott?) and, as I |1farther1| could have told you |1as brisk as your D.B.C.1|, behaviouristically pailletés with a coat of homoid icingº which is in reality only a |1done by chance1| ridiculisation of the whoo-whoo and where's hairs theorics of Winestain. To put it all the more plumbsily. The speechform is a mere surrogate whilst the quality and tality (I shall explex what you ought to mean by this |1with its proper when and where and why and how1| in the subsequent sentence) are alternativomentally harrogate and arrogate, as the gates may be. Talis is a word often abused by many passims. A pessim may frequent you to say: Have you been seeing much of Talis and Talis those times?: optimately meaning: Will you put up a three of irish? Or a ladyeater may perhaps have casualised as you temptoed her à la sourdine: Of your plates?, is Talis de Talis, the swordswallower, who is on at the Craterium the same Talis von Talis, the penscrusher, no funk you!, who runs his duly mile? Or this is a perhaps cleaner example. At a recent postvortex |1piece-examination piece infustigation1| of a determinised case of chronic spinosism an extension lecturer on The Ague who |1out of matter of formº1|