Galleys, 2 copies, April 1937-December 1938, §1D draft level 13, 13+

MS British Library 47487 12-18; 148-155 Draft details

|13|+Now?+|13| How good you are |13in explosition13|! |13How farflung is your fokloire and how velktingeling your volupkabulary! |aQui vive |besperando sparantob| qua muore |bcantando. contanto.b| |bO foibler, O flip, you've that wandervogl wail withyin!b| It falls easily upon the earopen and goes down the friskly shortest like treacling tumtim with its tingtingtaggleº. The blarneyest blather in all Corneywall!a|13| But could you, of course, decent Lettrechaun (to change your name if not your nation), we knew, while still in the barrel, read the strangewrote anaglyptics of those Shemletters patent for His Christian's Em?

— Greek! Hand it to me! Shaun replied plosively, pointing to the cinnamon quistoquill behind his acoustrolobe. I'm as afterdusk nobly Roman as pope and water could christen me. Look at that for a ridingpin! I am, by Sing Larynx, letterpotent to play the sem backwards like Oscan wild or inshant Persse transluding from the Otherman or off the Toptic off the types
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of my finklers in the draught or with buttles, with my oyes thickshut and all. But, hellas, it is horrebrew bad on the corns and callouses. As far as that goes I associate myself with your remark just now from theodicy re furloined notepaper and quite agree in your prescriptions for indeed I am, pay Gay, in juxtaposition to say it is not a nice production. It is a pinch of scribble. Not worth a bottle of (13cabbage cabbis13). Overdrawn! Puffedly offal tosh. Besides, it's auctionable, all about crime and libel! Nothing beyond clerical horrors et omnibus to be entered for the foreign as secondclass matter. The fuellest filth ever fired since Charley Lucan's!
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Flummery is what I would call it if you were to ask me to put it on a single dimension what pronounced opinion I might orally have about them bagses of trash which the mother and Mr Unmentionable |13(O,º breed not his same!)13| has reduced to writing without making news out of my sootynemm. When she slipped under her couchman. And where he made a cat with a peep. How they wore two madges on the makewater. And why there were treefellers in the shruburbs. Then he hawks his handmud figgers from Francie to Fritzie down in the kookin. Phiz is me mother and Hair's me father, Bauv Betty Famm and Pig Pig Pike. |13|aTheir livetree (may it flourish!) |band byb| their ecotaph (let it stayne!).ºa| With balsinbal bimbies swarming tiltop.13| Comme bien! Comme bien! Feefeel! Feefeel! And the Dutches dyin loffin at his pon peck de Baree. And all the mound reared! Till he wot not |+13what wot+|13| to begin he should. An infant sailing eggshells on the floor of a wet day would have more sabby.

Letter, carried of Shaun, son of Hek, written of Shem, brother of Shaun, uttered for Alp, mother of Shem, for Hek, father of Shaun. Initialled. Gee. Gone. 29 Hardware Saint. |13|+Lendet till Laonunº.+|13| Baile-Atha-Cliath, 31 Jan. 11.32 A.D. Here Commerces Enville. Tried Apposite House. 13 Fitzgibbets. Loco. Dangerous. Tax 9d. B. L. Guineys, esqueer. L.B. Not known |13as at13| 1132 a. 12 Norse Richmound. Nave unlodgeable. Loved noa's dress. Sinned, Jetty Pierrse. Noon sick parson. 92 |13Winsewer Windsewer13|. Ave. No such no. Vale. Finn's Hot. Exbelled from 1014 d. Pulldown. Fearview. Opened by Miss Take. 965 nighumpledansextiffits. Shout at Site. Roofloss. Fit Dunlop and Be Satisfied. Mr Domnall O'Domnally, Q.V. 8 Royal Terrors. None so strait. Shutter up. Dining with the Danes. Removed to Philip's Burke. At sea. D.E.D. Place scent on. Clontalk. Father Jacob, Rice Factor. 3 Castlewoos, P.V. Arrusted. J.P. Converted to Hospitalism. Ere the March past of Civilisation. Once Bank of Ireland's. Return to City Arms. 2 Milchbroke. Wrongly spilled. Traumcondraws. Now Bunk of England's. Drowned in the Laffey. Here. The Reverest Adam Foundlitter. Shown geshotten. 7 Streetpetres. Since Cabrank. Seized of the Crownd. Well, Sir Arthur. Buy
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Patersen's Matches. Unto his promisk hands. |13Blown up |a|bat lastb| Lemmasa| by Orchid Lodge. Search Unclaimedº Male.13| House
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Condamned by Ediles. Back in Few Minutes. Closet for Repeers. 60 Shellburn. Key at Kate's. Kiss. Isaac's Butt, Poor Man. Dalicious arson. Caught. Missing. Justiciated. Kainly forewarred. Abraham Badly's King, Park Bogey. Salved. All reddy berried. Hollow and eavy. Desert it. Overwayed. Understumped. Back to the P.O. |13|+Kaer of.+|13| Owns owe M.O. Too Let. To Be Soiled. Cohabited by Unfortunates. Lost all Licence. His Bouf Toe is Frozen Over. X, Y and Z, Ltd, Destinied Tears. A.B, ab, Sender. Boston (Mass), 31 Jun. 13.12 P.D. Razed. Lawyered. Vacant. Mined. Here's the Bayleaffs. Step out to Hall out of that, Ereweaker, with your Bloody Big Bristol. Bung. Stop. Bung. Stop. Cumm Bumm. Stop. Came Baked to Auld Aireen. Stop.

— Kind Shaun, we all requested, much as we hate to say it but since you rose to the use of money have you not, without suggesting for an instant, millions of moods used up slanguage tun times as words as the penmarks used out in sinscript with such hesitancy by your cerebrated brother — excuse me not mentioningahem?

— CelebrAted! Shaun replied under the sheltar of his broguish, vigorously rubbing his magic lantern to a glow of fullconsciousness. HeCitEncy! Your words grates on my ares. Notorious I rather would feel inclined to myself in the first place to describe Mr O'Shem the Draper with before letter as should I be accentually called upon |13for a |shdieoguinnsissh|13| to pass my opinions, properly spewing, into impulsory irelitz. But I would not care to be so unfruitful to my own part as to swear for the moment positively as to the views of Denmark. No, sah! But let me say my every belief before my high Gee is that I much doubt of it. I've no room for that fellow on my fagroaster. I just can't. As I hourly learn from Rooters and Havers through Gilligan's maypoles |13in a nice pathetic notice13| he|13, the pixillated doodler,13| is on his last with illegible clergimanitis, boasting always of his ruddy complexious! She, the mammyfar, was put up to it by him, the iniquity, that ought to be depraved of his libertins, to be silenced, sackclothed
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and suspended, and placed in irons into some drapery institution off the antipopees for wordsharping only if he |+13could was klanver enough to+|13| pass the panel fleischcurers and the fieldpost censor. |13|+Gach!+|13| For that is |13a fullblown fact and13| well celibated before the four divorce courts and all the King's |+13paunches paunches,+|13| how he has the solitary from seeing Scotch snakes and has |13a lowsense for the |shproduction ofsh|13| consumption and dalickeycyphalos on his brach premises where he can |13purge his contempt,º13| dejeunerate into a skillyton and be thinking himself to death. Rot him! Flannelfeet! Flattyro! I will describe you in a word. Thou. (I beg your pardon.) Homo! Then putting his bedfellow on me! Like into mike and nick onto post. The criniman! I'll give it to him for
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that! Making the lobbard change his stops, as we say in the long book. Is he on whosekeeping or are my? Obnoximost posthumust! With his unique hornbook and his prince of the apauper's pride, blundering all over the two worlds! If he waits till I buy him a mosselman's present! He's nos halfcousin of mine, pigdish! Nor wants to! I'd famish with the cuistha first. A ham!

— May we petition you, Shaun illustrious, then, to put his prentis' pride in your aproper's purse and to unravel in your own sweet way with words of style to your very humble and most obsequient, we suggested, with an esiop's foible, as to how?

— Well, it is partly my own, isn't it, and you may, ought and welcome, Shaun replied, taking at the same time as his hunger got the bitter of him a hearty bite out of the honeycomb of his Braham and Melo's edible hat, tryone, tryon and triune. Ann wunkum. Sure I thunkum you knew all about that, Honoreys causes, through thelementary channels long agum. Sure that is as |13|shold now as the Baden bees of Saint Dominoc'ssh| and as13| commonpleas now to allus pueblows and bunkum as Nelson his trifulgurayous pillar. |13|+However.+|13| Let me see, do. Beerman's bluff was what begun it, Old Knoll and his barrowing. And then the lilies of the veldt, Nancy Nickies and Folletta Lajambe. Then mem and hem and the jaquejack. All about Wucherer and righting his name for him. I regret to announce, after laying out his litterery bed, for two days she kept squealing down for noisy priors and bawling out |13to her
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|shjameymock farcesonsh|
13| in Shemish |13like a mouther of the incas with a garcielasso13| huw Ananymus pinched her tights |13|+and+|13| about the Balt |13|+with the markshaire parawag+|13| and his loyal divorces, when he feraxiously shed ovas in Alemaney, tse, tse, |13|+all the tell of the tud, with the bourighevisien backclack;º+|13| and him, the cribibber, like an ambitrickster, aspiring like the decan's, fast aslooped in the intrance to his polthronechair with his sixth finger between his catseye and the index, making his pillgrimace of Child Horrid, engrossing to his ganderpan the idioglossary he invented under hicks hyssop! Hock! Ickick gave him that toock, imitator! And it was entirely theck latter to blame. Does he drink because I am sorely there shall be no more Kates and Nells? If you see him it took place then. It was given meeck, thank the Bench, to assist at the whole thing byck special chancery licence. As often as I think of that unbloody housewarmer Shem Skrivenitch, always cutting my prhose to please his phrase, bigorror, I declare I get the jawache! Be me |13|shkickingsh| punting13| his reflection he'd begin his beogrefright in muddyass ribalds. |13|aDigtater Digtetera|! Grundtsagar! Swop beef!13| You know, he's peculiar, that eggschicker with the smell of old woman off him, to suck nothing of his switched-ups. M.D. made his ante mortem for him. He was grey at three like Sygnus the swan when he made his boo to the
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public and barnacled up to the eyes when he repented after seven. |13The alum that winters on his top is the stale of the staun that will soar when he stamblesº |atill that hag of the coombe rapes the b pad off his locka|.13| He was down with the whooping laugh at the age of the loss of reason, the whopping first time he prediseased me. He's weird, I tell you, and middayevil |13|ain down toa| his vegetable soul13|. Never mind his falls feet and his tanbark complexion. That's why he was forbidden tomate and was warmed off the ricecourse of marrimoney under the Helpless Corpses Enactment. I'm not at all surprised the saint kicked him |13whereby the sum taken Berkeley showed the reason genrously13|. Negas, negasti — negertop, negertoe, negertoby, negrunter! Then he was pusched out of Thingamuddy's school by Miss Garterd for itching. Then he caught the europicolas and went into the society of jewses. |13|+With Bro Cahlls and Fran Czeschs
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and Bruda Pszths and Brat Slavos.
+|13| One temp, when he foiled to be killed, the freak wanted to put his bilingual head intentionally through the |+13Irish Ikish+|13| Tames and go and join the clericy as a demonican skyterrier. Throwing dust in the eyes of the Hooley |13Farmers Fermers13|! He used to be avowdeed as he ought to be vitandust. For onced I squeaked by twyst I'll squelch him. Then he went to Cecilia's treat on his solo to pick up Galen. |13|sh|aAsbestopulos Asbestopoulosa|sh|!13| Inkupot! He has encaust in the blood. Shim! I have the outmost contempt for. Prost bitten! Conshy! |13|shLeavesh| Tiberia is waiting on you|a, arestocranka|! |aChaka a seagull ticket at Gattabuia and Gabbiano's!a| Go o'er the sea, haythen, from me,º and |shleavesh|13| your libber to T.C.D. Your puddin is cooked! You're served, cram ye! Fatefully yaourth... Ex. Ex. Ex. Ex.

— But for what, thrice truthful teller, Shaun of grace? weakly we went on to ask now of the gracious one. Vouchsafe to say. You will now, goodness, won't you? Why?

— For his root language, if you ask me whys, footinmouther, Shaun replied as he blessed himself devotionally like a crawsbomb making act of oblivion, (what the thickuns else?) which he picksticked into his lettruce invrention. Ull­hod­turden­weir­mudgaardgringnir­urdr­molnir­fenrirlukki­lokki­baugi­mandodrerinsurt­krinm­gern­rackina­rockar! Thor's for |+13yo youº+|13|!

— The hundredlettered name |13|+again+|13|, lost word of perfect language. But you could come near it, we do suppose, strong Shaun O', we foresupposed. How?

|+13|shPease! Pease!sh| Peax! Peax!+|13| Shaun replied in vealar penultimatum as he swigged a slug of Jon Jacobsen from his treestem sucker cane. 'Tis |s13perils pebilss13| before Sweenys. Mild but likesome! I might as well be talking to the four waves till Tibbs' gray eve and the west's asleep. Frost! Nope! |+13No-one No one+|13| in his seven senses could, as I have before said, only you missed my drift, for it's being incendiary. Every dimmed letter in it is a copy and not a few of the silbils and wholly words I can show you in my Kingdom of Heaven. The lowquacity of him!
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With his threestar monothong! Thaw! The last word in stolentelling! And what's more, rightdown lowbrown schisthematic robblemint! Yes. As he was rising
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my lather. Like you. And as I was plucking his goosybone. Like yea. He store the tale of me shur. Like yup. How's that for Shemese?

— Still in a way, not to flatter you, we fancy you that are so strikingly brainy and well letterread on yourshelves |13as ever were the |shShamous Shamonous Limitedsh|13| could use worse of yourself, ingenious Shaun, we still |13|+so+|13| fancied, if only you would take your time |13|+so+|13| and the trouble of so doing it. |13|+Upu now!+|13|

— Undoubtedly but that is show, Shaun replied, the muttermelk of his blood donor beginning to work, and while innocent of disseminating the foul emanation it would be a |+13bad fall+|13| day I could not|13|+, sole,+|13| so you can keep your space, and by the power of blurry wards I am loyable to do it (I am convicted of it!) any time ever I cheesed to (bet ye fippence off me boot allowance!) with the |+13greatest allergrossest+|13| transfusiasm as, you see, while I can soloquise |13|+the Siamanish+|13| better than most, it is an openear secret, be it said, how I am extremely ingenuous at the clerking even with my badily left and|13|+, arrah go braz,º+|13| I'd pinsel it |13|shwith immenuensoessh|13| as easy as I'd perorate a chickerow of beans for the price of two maricles, and my trifolium librotto, the authordux Book of |+13Life Lief+|13|, would, if given to daylight (I hold a most incredible faith about it), far exceed what that bogus bolshy of a |+13Shame shame+|13|, my soamheis brother, |13|+Gaoy Fecks,+|13| is conversant with in audible black and prink. |13Outragedy of poetscalds! |shAcomedy of letters! I have them all, tame, deep and harried, in my mine's Ish|.13| And one of these fine days, man dear, when the mood is on me, that I may cut my throat with my tongue tonight but I may willhap be ormuzd moved to take potlood in hand and introvent it Paatryk just like a work of merit, mark my words, and append to my mark twang, that will open your pucktricker's ops for you, broather brooher, only for as a papst and an immature |13and a nayophightº13| and a spaciaman spaciosum and a hundred and eleven other things I would never for anything take so much trouble of such doing. And why so? Because I am altogether a chap too fly and hairyman for to infradig the like of that ultravirulence. And by all I hold sacred on earth, clouds and in heaven I swear to you on my piop
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and oath by the awe of Shaun (and that's a howl of a name!) that I will commission to the flames any incendiarist whosoever or ahriman howsoclever who would endeavour to set ever annyma roner moother of mine on fire. Rock me, Julie, but I will soho!

And |13with that crickcrackcruck of his |athree le lunggled threelunggeda| squool from which grief had usupped every smile,13| big hottempered husky |13|+|afuskya| krenfy strenfy+|13| pugiliser such as he was, he virtually broke down on the mooherhead,
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getting quite jerry over her, overpowered by himself with the love of the tearsilver that he twined through her hair, for sure he was the soft |13|+semplgawn+|13| slob of the world with |13a heart like Montgomery's in his showchest and harvey13| loads of feeling in him and as innocent and undesignful as the freshfallen calef. Still grossly unselfish in sickself, he dished allarmes away and laughed it off with a wipe at his pudgies and a gulp apologetic|13|s+, healingº his |ateare tarea| be the smeyle of his oye, oogling aroondºs+|13|. Him belly no belong sollow mole pigeon. Ally bully. Fu Li's gulpa. Mind you, |13|+now,+|13| that he was in the dumpest of earnest orthough him jawr war hoo hleepy hor halk urthing hurther. |13|+Moe.+|13| Like that only he stopped short and, in looking up up |+13up from upfrom+|13| his tideshackled wrists through the ghost of an ocean upon the wieds of pansiful heathvens of |+13joepeter joepeter's gaseytotum+|13| as they are telling not but were and will be, all told, scruting foreback into the fargoneahead to feel out what age in years tropical, ecclesiastic, civil or sidereal he might find by the sirious pointstand of Charley's Wain (what betune the spheres sledding along the lacteal and the mansions of the blest turning on old times), as erewhile had he craved of thus, the dreamskhwindel necklassoed him, his thumbs fell into his fists and, |+13losing lusosing+|13| the harmonical balance of his ballbearing extremities, by the holy kettle, like a flask of lightning over he careened (O the sons of the fathers!) by the mightyfine weight of his barrel (all that prevented the happening of, who, if not the asterisks betwink themselves, shall ever?) and, as the wisest postlude he could playact, collapsed in ensemble and rolled buoyantly backwards in less than a twinkling via Rattigan's corner out of further earshot with his highly curious mode of slipashod motion, surefoot, sorefoot, slickfoot,
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slackfoot, |13linkman laizurely, lampman loungey,13| and by Killesther's lapes and falls, with corks and staves and treeleaves and more bubbles to his keelrow a fairish and easy way enough as the town cow cries behind the times in the direction of MacAuliffe's, the crucethouse, |13|s+Open the Door |sasoftly Softlysa|, down in the valley,ºs+|13| before he was really uprighted ere in a dip of the downs |13|+(uila!)+|13| he spoorlessly disappaled and vanesshed|13|+, like a popo down a papa,+|13| from circular circulatio. Ah, mean!

|13|+Gaogaogaone! Tapaa!+|13|

And the stellas were shinings. And the earthnight strewed aromatose. His pibrook creppt mong the donkness. A reek was waft on the luftstream. He was ours, all fragrance. And we were his for a lifetime. O dulcid dreamings, languidous! Taboccoo!

It was sharming! But scharmeng!

And the lamp went out as it couldn't glow on burning, yep, the lmp wnt out for it couldn't stay alight.
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Well |13|s+(how dire |sato dosa| we |sathe theesa| hours when |sathylight thylikesa| fades!)s+|13|, |13|+all's dall and youllow and+|13| it is to bedowern that thou art passing hence, mine bruder, able Shaun, |13|s+with a |satwisting twhistingºsa| of the robe, ere the morning of light calms our hardest throes,s+|13| from carnal relations and familiar faces, beyond cods' cradle and porpoise plain, to the inds of Tuskland where the Oliphants scrum from, till the ousts of Amiracles where the toll stories grow proudest, more is the pity, but for all your deeds of goodness you were |13|+soo ooft and+|13| forever doing, |13|+manomano and myriamilia, even to mulimuli,+|13| as our humbler classes, whose virtue is humility, can tell, it is hardly we in the country of the old, Sean Moy, can part you, for|13|+, oleypoe,+|13| you were the walking saint, you were, |13|+tootoo too stayer,+|13| the graced of gods and pittites and the salus of the wake. |13|+Countenance whose disparition afflictedly fond Fuinn feels. Winner of the gamings, primed at the studience, propredicted from the storybouts, the choice of ages wise! Spickspookspokesman of our specturesque silentiousness!+|13| Musha, beminded of us out there in Cockpit, poor twelve o'clock |+13scholars scholars,+|13| sometime or other anywhen you think the time. Wisha, becoming back to us way home in Biddyhouse one way or the other |+13anyhow anywhere+|13|, we miss your smile.
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|13|+Palmwine breadfruit sweetmeat milksoup! Suasusupo!+| |+However!+|13| Our people |13|+|aherea| in Samoanesia+|13| will not be after forgetting you |13|+and they the elders luking and marking the jornies|a, chalkingº up drizzle in drizz drizzle out,ºa| on the four bare mats+|13|. How you would be thinking in your thoughts how the deepings did it all begin and how you would be scrimmaging through your scruples to collar a hold of an imperfection being committled. Sireland calls you. Mery Loye is saling moonlike. And Slyly Mamourneen is ladymaid at Gladshouse Lodge. Turn your coat, strong character, and tarry among us down the vale, |s+13seat yougang youganders+|13|, only once more. And may the moss of prosperousness gather you rolling home! May foggy dews bediamondise your hooprings! May the fireplug of filiality reinsure your bunghole! May the barleywind behind glow luck to your bathershins! 'Tis well we know you were loth to leave us, winding your hobbledehorn, right royal post, but|13|+, aruah+|13| sure, pulse of our slumber, |13|+dreambookpogeº,+|13| by the grace of Votre Dame, when the natural mourning of your nocturne blankmerges into the national morning of golden sunup |13and |shDon Leary gets his own back from old grog Georges Quartasº as |athat |bthe thatb|a| goodship the Jonnyjoys takes the wind from waterloogged Erin's kingsh|13|, |13|s+O, 'tis sweet to thinks+|13| you will skiff across the Moylendsea and round up in your own escapology some canonisator's day or other, sack on back, alack, digging snow (not so?) like the good man you are with your picture pockets turned knockside out in the rake of the rain for fresh remittances, and from that till this in any case|13|+, timus tenant,+|13| may the tussocks grow quickly under your trampthickets and the daisies trip lightly over your battercops.