1.68a: It was of a night, late, lang time agone, in an auldstane eld, when Adam was delvin...
and Jarl van Hoother had his burnt head high up in his lamphouse, laying cold hands on himself...
And, be dermot, who come to the keep of his inn only the niece-of-his-in-law, the prankquean...
And spoke she to the dour in her petty perusienne: Mark the Wans, why do I am alook alike...
And Jarl van Hoother warlessed after her with soft dovesgall: Stop deef stop come back to my earin...
And the prankquean went for her forty years' walk in Tourlemonde and she washed the blessings...
So then she started to rain and to rain and, be redtom, she was back again at Jarl van Hoother's...
And Jarl von Hoother had his baretholobruised heels drowned in his cellarmalt, shaking warm hands...
And the prankquean nipped a paly one and lit up again and redcocks flew flackering from the hillcombs...
So her madesty a forethought set down a jiminy and took up a jiminy and all the lilipath ways...
And there was a wild old grannewwail that laurency night of starshootings somewhere in Erio...
So then she started raining, raining, and in a pair of changers, be dom ter, she was back again...
And Jarl von Hoother had his hurricane hips up to his pantrybox, ruminating in his holdfour stomachs...
And the prankquean picked a blank and lit out and the valleys lay twinkling. And she made her wittest...
For like the campbells acoming with a fork lance of lightning, Jarl von Hoother Boanerges himself...
in his broadginger hat and his civic chollar and his allabuff hemmed and his bullbraggin soxangloves...
And he clopped his rude hand to his eacy hitch and he ordurd and his thick spch spck for her to shut...
And they all drank free. For one man in his armour was a fat match always for any girls under shurts...
Saw fore shalt thou sea. Betoun ye and be. The prankquean was to hold her dummyship and the jimminies...
FDV: "and they all drank free. And this was the first peace of porter" →
"and they all drank free. And that was the first peace of porter of illiterative porthery in the whole flooding"
And they all drank free.
future visitors to Howth Castle
stock ending of Irish fairy tales: 'They put on the kettle and they all had tea' (unattested?)
For one man in his armour was a fat match always for any girls under shurts.
Ulysses 15.4402: 'Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their shirts' (from Swift: The Drapier's Letters: 'Eleven Men well armed will certainly subdue one Single Man in his Shirt') [ebook]
slang in armour: courageous through liquor
slang in armour: using a condom
German Schürze: apron
but the prankquean outmatched Jarl
And that was the first peace of illiterative porthery in all the flamend floody flatuous world.
(what was?) the first piece of alliterative poetry
cf 509.34: "he downadowns his pantoloogions and made a piece of first perpersonal puetry that staystale remains to be. Cleaned."
porterpease (why do I am alook)
Penguin typo: illiteratise
Welsh porthor: doorkeeper, porter
all 4 elements (fire, water, air, earth)
How kirssy the tiler made a sweet unclose to the Narwhealian captol.
how Kersse the tailor made a suit of clothes for the Norwegian Captain
311.05ff: "he drew out the moddle of Kersse by jerkin his dressing but and or it was not before athwartships he buttonhaled the Norweeger's capstan..."
tiler or tyler: in freemasonry, a doorkeeper who keeps the uninitiated out [wiki]
Penguin typo: titler
Popeye the Sailor dates to 1929
'made sweet love' phrase?
archaic unclose = to open (oneself, eg sexually)
disclosed a secret
narwhal: a species of whale with a horn
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