025.01 you presents, won't we, fenians? And it isn't our spittle we'll stint

025.02 you of, is it, druids? Not shabbty little imagettes, pennydirts and

025.03 dodgemyeyes you buy in the soottee stores. But offerings of the

025.04 field. Mieliodories, that Doctor Faherty, the madison man,

025.05 taught to gooden you. Poppypap's a passport out. And honey is

025.06 the holiest thing ever was, hive, comb and earwax, the food for

025.07 glory, (mind you keep the pot or your nectar cup may yield too

025.08 light!) and some goat's milk, sir, like the maid used to bring you.

025.09 Your fame is spreading like Basilico's ointment since the Fintan

025.10 Lalors piped you overborder and there's whole households be-

025.11 yond the Bothnians and they calling names after you. The men-

025.12 here's always talking of you sitting around on the pig's cheeks

025.13 under the sacred rooftree, over the bowls of memory where every

025.14 hollow holds a hallow, with a pledge till the drengs, in the Salmon

025.15 House. And admiring to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat

025.16 on high is the mark of your manument. All the toethpicks ever

025.17 Eirenesians chewed on are chips chepped from that battery

025.18 block. If you were bowed and soild and letdown itself from the

025.19 oner of the load it was that paddyplanters might pack up plenty and

025.20 when you were undone in every point fore the laps of goddesses

025.21 you showed our labourlasses how to free was easy. The game old

025.22 Gunne, they do be saying, (skull!) that was a planter for you, a

025.23 spicer of them all. Begog but he was, the G.O.G! He's dudd-

025.24 andgunne now and we're apter finding the sores of his sedeq

025.25 but peace to his great limbs, the buddhoch, with the last league

025.26 long rest of him, while the millioncandled eye of Tuskar sweeps

025.27 the Moylean Main! There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes

025.28 and Brettland, no, nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No,

025.29 nor a king nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or hung king.

025.30 That you could fell an elmstree twelve urchins couldn't ring

025.31 round and hoist high the stone that Liam failed. Who but a Mac-

025.32 cullaghmore the reise of our fortunes and the faunayman at the

025.33 funeral to compass our cause? If you was hogglebully itself and

025.34 most frifty like you was taken waters still what all where was

025.35 your like to lay the cable or who was the batter could better

025.36 Your Grace? Mick Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to