Finnegans Wake Notes

177.01 wottle at his feet to stoke his energy of waiting, moaning feebly,

177.02 in monkmarian monotheme, but tarned long and then a nation

177.03 louder, while engaged in swallowing from a large ampullar, that

177.04 his pawdry's purgatory was more than a nigger bloke could bear,

177.05 hemiparalysed by the tong warfare and all the shemozzle, (Daily

177.06 Maily, fullup Lace! Holy Maly, Mothelup Joss!) his cheeks and

177.07 trousers changing colour every time a gat croaked.

177.08 How is that for low, laities and gentlenuns? Why, dog of the

177.09 Crostiguns, whole continents rang with this Kairokorran low-

177.10 ness! Sheols of houris in chems upon divans, (revolted stellas

177.11 vespertine vesamong them) at a bare (O!) mention of the scaly

177.12 rybald exclaimed: Poisse!

177.13 But would anyone, short of a madhouse, believe it? Neither of

177.14 those clean little cherubum, Nero or Nobookisonester himself,

177.15 ever nursed such a spoiled opinion of his monstrous marvellosity

177.16 as did this mental and moral defective (here perhaps at the

177.17 vanessance of his lownest) who was known to grognt rather than

177.18 gunnard upon one occasion, while drinking heavily of spirits to

177.19 that interlocutor a latere and private privysuckatary he used to

177.20 pal around with, in the kavehazs, one Davy Browne-Nowlan, his

177.21 heavenlaid twin, (this hambone dogpoet pseudoed himself under

177.22 the hangname he gave himself of Bethgelert) in the porchway of

177.23 a gipsy's bar (Shem always blaspheming, so holy writ, Billy, he

177.24 would try, old Belly, and pay this one manjack congregant of

177.25 his four soups every lass of nexmouth, Bolly, so sure as thair's a

177.26 tail on a commet, as a taste for storik's fortytooth, that is to

177.27 stay, to listen out, ony twenny minnies moe, Bully, his Ballade

177.28 Imaginaire which was to be dubbed Wine, Woman and Water-

177.29 clocks, or How a Guy Finks and Fawkes When He Is Going Batty,

177.30 by Maistre Sheames de la Plume, some most dreadful stuff in a

177.31 murderous mirrorhand) that he was avoopf (parn me!) aware

177.32 of no other shaggspick, other Shakhisbeard, either prexactly

177.33 unlike his polar andthisishis or procisely the seem as woops

177.34 (parn!) as what he fancied or guessed the sames as he was him-

177.35 self and that, greet scoot, duckings and thuggery, though he was

177.36 foxed fux to fux like a bunnyboy rodger with all the teashop