Complete Works of James Joyce (194 page)

BOOK: Complete Works of James Joyce
12.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

 

Deva would you do that for? 1 Now, sknow

 

 

royol road to Puddlin, take your mut for a

 

 

first beginning, big to bog, back to bach.

 

 

Anny liffle mud which cometh out of Mam

 

 

will doob, I guess. A.I. Amnium instar. And

 

 

to find a locus for an alp get a howlth on her

 

 

bayrings as a prisme O and for a second O

 

 

unbox your compasses. I cain but are you

 

 

able? Amicably nod. Gu it! So let’s seth off

 

 

betwain us. Prompty? Mux your pistany at a

 

 

point of the coastmap to be called a but pro-

 

 

nounced olfa. There’s the isle of Mun, ah!

 

 

O! Tis just. Bene! Now, whole in applepine

 

 

odrer 2

 

 

(for — husk, hisk, a spirit spires — Dolph, dean of idlers, meager

 

 

suckling of gert stoan, though barekely a balbose boy, he too, —

 

 

venite, preteriti,3 sine mora dumque de entibus nascituris decentius in

 

 

lingua roman mortuorum parva chartula liviana ostenditur, seden-

 

 

tes in letitiae super ollas carnium, spectantes immo situm lutetiae unde

 

 

auspiciis secundis tantae consurgent humanae stirpes, antiquissimam

 

 

flaminum amborium Jordani et Jambaptistae mentibus revolvamus

 

 

sapientiam: totum tute fluvii modo mundo fluere, eadem quae ex

 

 

aggere fututa iterum inter alveum fore futura, quodlibet sese

 

 

ipsum per aliudpiam agnoscere contrarium, omnem demun amnem

 

 

ripis rivalibus amplecti4 — recurrently often, when him moved he

 

 

would cake their chair, coached rebelliumtending mikes of his

 

 

same and over his own choirage at Backlane Univarsity, among of

 

 

which pupal souaves the pizdrool was pulled up, bred and bat-

 

 

1 Will you walk into my wavetrap? said the spiter to the shy.

 

 

2 If we each could always do all we ever did.

 

3 Dope in Canorian words we’ve made. Spish from the Doc.

 

4 Basqueesh, Finnican, Hungulash and Old Teangtaggle, the only pure

 

way to work a curse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tered, for a dillon a dollar,1 chanching letters for them vice o’verse

 

 

to bronze mottes and blending tschemes for em in tropadores and

 

doublecressing twofold thruths and devising tingling tailwords

 

too whilest, cunctant that another would finish his sentence for

 

him, he druider would smilabit eggways2 ned, he, to don’t say

 

nothing, would, so prim, and pick upon his ten ordinailed ungles,

 

trying to undo with his teeth the knots made by his tongue,

 

retelling humself by the math hour, long as he’s brood reel of

 

funnish ficts apout the shee, how faust of all and on segund

 

thoughts and the thirds the charmhim girlalove and fourther-

 

more and filthily with bag from Oxatown and baroccidents and

 

proper accidence and hoptohill and hexenshoes, in fine the whole

 

damning letter; and, in point of feet, when he landed in ourland’s

 

leinster3 of saved and solomnones for the twicedhecame time, off

 

Lipton’s strongbowed launch, the Lady Eva, in a tan soute of

 

sails4 he converted it’s nataves, name saints, young ordnands,

 

maderaheads and old unguished P.T. Publikums, through the

 

medium of znigznaks with sotiric zeal, to put off the barcelonas5

 

from their peccaminous corpulums (Gratings, Mr Dane!) and

 

kiss on their bottes (Master!) as often as they came within blood-

 

shot of that other familiar temple and showed em the celestine

 

way to by his tristar and his flop hattrick and his perry humdrum

 

dumb and numb nostrums that he larned in Hymbuktu,6 and that

 

same galloroman cultous is very prevailend up to this windiest of

 

landhavemiseries all over what was beforeaboots a land of nods, in

 

spite of all the bloot, all the braim, all the brawn, all the brile, that

 

was shod, that were shat, that was shuk all the while, for our

 

massangrey if mosshungry people, the at Wickerworks,7 still hold

 

 

1 An ounceworth of onions for a pennyawealth of sobs.

 

 

Who brought us into the yellow world!

 

Because it’s run on the mountain and river system.

 

When all them allied sloopers was ventitillated in their poppos and,

 

sliding down by creek and veek, stole snaking out to sea.

 

They were plumped and plumed and jerried and citizens and racers, and

 

Other books

A Case of Love by Wendy Stone
Victims of Nimbo by Gilbert L. Morris
A Difficult Woman by Alice Kessler-Harris
Wolfie by Emma Barnes
Temple of the Winds by Terry Goodkind
The Gates of Paradise by Barbara Cartland
The Maverick Preacher by Victoria Bylin