Tales Told

Tales Told 1st proofs, April-May 1929, §1C draft level 5

MS Yale 9.9 14-21 Draft details

The Gracehoper was always jigging a jog, hoppy on akkant of his joyicity (he had a partner pair of findlestilts to supplant him), or, if not, he was always making ungraceful overtures to Floh and Luse and Bienie and Vespatilla to play pupa-pupa and pulicy-pulicy and langtennas and pushpygyddyum and to commence insects with him, there mouthparts to his orefice and his gambills to there airy processes, even if only in chaste, ameng the everlastings, behold a waspering pot. He would of curse melissciously by his fore feelhers, flexors, contractors, depressors and extensors, lamely, harry me, marry me, bury me, bind me, till she was puce for shame and allso fourmish her in Spinner's housery at the earthsbest schoppinhour so summery as his cottage, which was cald fourmillierly Tingsomingenting, groped up. Or, if he was not done doing that, |5improbably5| he was always striking up funny funereels with Besterfarther Zeuts, the Aged One, with all his wigeared corollas, albedinous
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and oldbuoyant, inscythe his elytrical wormcasket, and Dehlia and Peonia, his druping nymphs, bewheedling him, compound eyes |5and onº5| hornitosehead, and Auld Letty Plussiboots to scratch his cacumen and cackle his tramsitus (seven bolls of soap, a lick of lime, two spurts of fussfor, threefurts of sulph, a shake o' shooker, doze grains of migniss and a mesfull of madcap pitchies: the whool of the whaal in the wheel of the whorl of the Boubou from Bourneum has thus come to taon!) and with tambarins and cantoridettes soturning around his eggshill |5rock coach rockcoach5| their dance McCaper in retrophœbia, beck from bulk, like fantastic disossed and jenny aprils, the ra, the ra, the ra, the ra, langsome heels and langsome toesies, attended to by a mutter and duffer baxingmotch and a myrmidins of pszozlers|5. pszinging Satyr's Caudledayed Niceº (+blank and Humbly, Dumbly Sod We Awhile but Ho, Time Timeagen, Wake!º+)5| For if sciencium (what's what) can mute uns nought, 'a thought, abought the Great Sommboddy within the Omniboss perhops an artsaccord (hoot's hoot) might sing ums tumtim abutt the Little Newbuddies that ring his panch. |5A high old tide |afor for the |bbarheated barheated publicsb| and |ball the wholeb| day's gratiis!a| Fudder and |alightier lightinga| for ally looty, any filly in a fog,º |afora| O'Cronione lags |aasunken acrumblinga| in the sands but his sunsunsuns still tumble on.5| |5Anyting Erething5| above ground, as his Book of Breathings bid him, so as |5anywhy everwhy5|, sham or shunner, to kick time. Grouscious me and scarab my sahul! What a bagateller it is! Pou! Ptah! What a Zeit for the goths! vented the Ondt, who, not being a sommerfool, was thothfolly making chilly spaces at hisphex affront of the icinglass of his windhame, which was cold antitopically Nixnixundnix. We shall
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not come to that lopp's party, he decided |5possibly5|, for he is not on our social list. Nor to Ba's berial nether ablong as there's a khul on a khat. Nefersenless|5, when he had safely looked up his ovipository,5| he prayed: May he me no voida water! Seekit Hatup! May no he me tile pig shed on! Suckit Hotup! As broad as Beppy's realm shall flourish my reign shall flourish! As high as
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Heppy's hevn shall flurrish my haine shall hurrish! Shall grow, shall flourish! Shall hurrish! Hummum.

The Ondt was a weltall fellow, raumybult and abelboobied, bynear saw altitudinous wee a schelling in kopfers. He was sair sair sullemn and chairmanlooking when he was not making spaces in his psyche, but (laus!) when he wore making spaces on his ikey he ware mouche |5moore mothstº5| secred and |5moorav muravyingly5| wisechairmanlooking. Now whim the sillybilly of a Gracehoper had jingled through a jungle of love and debts and jangled through a jumble of life in doubts afterworse, wetting with the |5waps zanzaries5|, drikking with |5the drones nautonects5|, bilking with |5bugs dirty durryd durrydunglecks5| and horing after |5hornests, ladybirdies (ichnehmon diagelegenaitoikon),º5| he fell joust as sieck as a sexton and tanto pooveroo as a churchprince, and wheer the midges to wend hemsylph |5or vosch5| for grub for his corapusse or to find a hospes, alick, he wist |5nit gnit5|! |5Bruko dry,! Fukoº |aout spinta|! |aSaltamont Sultamonta| osa bare! And volomundo osi videvide!5| Nichtsnichtsundnichts! |5Not a one pickopeck of muscowmoney to bag a tittlebits of beebread!5| |5Iomio! Iomio! Iomiol! Iomiol!5| |5Crick Crick's corbicule5|, which a plight! O moy Bog, he contrited, I am heartily hungry!

He had eaten all the whilepaper, swallowed the lustres, devoured forty flights of styearcases, chewed up all the mensas and seccles, ronged the records, made mundballs of the ephemerids and voracioused most glutinously with the very timeplace in the ternitary — not too dusty a cicada of neuteriment for a little chip so mity. But when Chrysalmas was on the bare branches off he went from Tingsomingenting. He took a round stroll and he took a stroll round and he took a round strollagain till the grillies in his head and the leivnits in his hair made him thought he had the Tossmania. The June snows was flocking in thuckflues on the hegelstomes, millipeeds of it and myriopoods, and a lugly tournedos, the Boraborayellers, blohablasting tegolhuts up to tetties and ruching sleets off the coppeehouses with an irritant,
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penetrant, siphonopterous spuk. Grausssssss! Opr! Grausssssss! Opr!

The Gracehoper, who, though blind as batflea, yet knew his good smetterling of entymology, promptly tossed himself in the vico, phthin and phthir, on top of his buzzer and the next time he
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makes the aquinatance of the Ondt after this they have met theirselves |5it shall be motylucky if5| he will beheld a world of differents. Behailed the Ondt|5, prostrandvorous5| upon his dhrone, |5in his Papylonian babooshkees,5| with unshrinkables farfalling from his unthinkables, swarming of himself in his sunnyroom, sated before his comfortumble phullupsuppy of a plate o' monkynous and a confucion of minthe (for he was a conformed |5aceticist and5| aristotaller) as appi as a oneysucker or a baskerboy on the Libido with Floh biting his big thigh and Luse lugging his luff leg and Bienie bussing him under his bonnet and Vespatilla blowing cosy fond tutties up the large of his smalls. Emmet and demmet and be jiltses crazed and be jadeses whipt! schneezed the Gracehoper, aguepe with |5blank ptchs ptchjelasys5| and at his wittol's end, What have eyeforsight! The Ondt, that true and perfect host, was making the greatest spass a body could with his queens laceswinging, for he was spizzing all over him like thingsumanything in formicolation, boundlessly blissfilled in an allallahbath of houris. He was ameising himself hugely |5at crabround and marypose5|, chasing Floh out of charity and tickling Luse, I hope too, and tackling Bienie, faith as well, and |5catching jukki jucking5| Vespatilla by the |5end chimiche5|. Never did |5Dorcan Dorsan5| from Dunshangan dance it with more devilry! The veripatetic imago of the |5impossible5| Gracehoper on his odderkop in the myre, sans mantis ne shoos, featherweighed animule, actually and presumptuably sinctifying chronic's despair, was sufficiently |5and probably5| coocoo much for his chorous
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of gravitates. A darkener of the threshold? The thing pleased him andt, andt, andt

He larved and he larved ann he merd such a nauses
The Gracehoper feared he would mixplace his fauces.
I forgive you, dear Ondt, said the Gracehoper, weeping,
For their sakes of the sakes you are safe in whose keeping.
Teach Floh and Luse polkas, show Bienie |5what's where's5| sweet
And be sure Vespatilla fines fat ones to heat.
As I once played the piper I must now pay the count
So saida to Moyhammlet and marhaba to your Mount!
|5Let who likes lump above so what flies be a full 'un;
I could not |abe feela| moregruggy if this was prompollen.
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I pick up your reproof, the horsegift of a friend,
For the prize of your save is the price of my spend.
Can castwhores pulladeftkiss if oldpollocks forsake 'em
Or Culex feel etchy if Pulex don't wake him?
A locus to loue, a term it t'embarrass,
These twain are the twins that tick Homo Vulgaris. |5(+
Haf Aquileoneº nortº winged to go syf
Since the Gwyfyn we were in his farrest drewbryf
And that Accident Man not beseeked where his story ends
Since longsephyring sighs sought heartseast for their orience?º
We are Wastenot with Want, precondamned, two and true,
Till Nolans go volants and Bruneyes come blue.
In my risible universe where could you find
Such prodigious advancement with so much behind?
Your feats are enormous, your volumes immense
(May the Graces I hoped for sing Your Ondtship song sense!),
Your genus is worldwide, your spaces sublime!
But, Holy Saltmartin, why can't you beat time?

In the name of the former and of the latter and of their holocaust. Allmen.