Jerusalem! Open your gates and sing Hosanna …
I’m a tiny tiny thing Ever flying in the spring Round and round a ringaring. Long ago I was a king, Now I do this kind of thing On the wing, on the wing! Bing!
He rushes against the mauve shade flapping noisily. Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
Conservio lies captured He lies in the lowest dungeon With manacles and chains around his limbs Weighing upwards of three tons.
O, the poor little fellow Hi‑hi‑hi‑hi‑his legs they were yellow He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake But some bloody savage To graize his white cabbage He murdered Nell Flaherty’s duckloving drake.
I’m suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they’d walk me off the face of the bloody globe.
Shall carry my heart to thee, Shall carry my heart to thee, And the breath of the balmy night Shall carry my heart to thee.
Tears open the silverfoil. Fingers was made before forks. She breaks off and nibbles a piece, gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts and then turns kittenishly to Lynch . No objection to French lozenges? He nods. She taunts him. Have it now or wait till you get it? He opens his mouth, his head cocked. She whirls the prize in left circle. His head follows. She whirls it back in right circle. He eyes her.
Catch.
Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Poulaphouca.
Poulaphouca Poulaphouca Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca