by James Joyce
— Heave, coves, emptybloody!
And ere he could catch or hook or line to suit their sausyskins, the lumpenpack. Underbund was overraskelled. As
— Sot! sod the tailors opsits from their gabbalots. Change all that whole set. Shut down and shet up. Our set, our set’s allohn.
And they poured em behoild on the fire. Scaald!
Rowdiose wodhalooing. Theirs is one lessonless missage for good and truesirs. Will any persen bereaved to be passent bringback or rumpart to the Hoved politymester. Clontarf, one love, one fear. Ellers, for the greeter glossary of code, callen hom: Finucane-Lee, Finucane-Law.
Am. Dg.
Welter focussed.
Wind from the nordth. Warmer towards mu√nbell. Lull.
As our revelant Columnfiller predigted in last mount’s chattiry sermon, the allexpected depression over Schiumdinebbia, a bygger muster of veirying precipitation, haralded by faugh sicknells (hear kokkenhovens ekstras!) and umwalloped in an unusuable suite of clouds, having filthered trough the middelhav of the same gorgers’ kennel on its wage wealthwards and incursioned a sotten retch of low pleasure, missed in some ports but with lucal drizzles, the outlook for tomarry (Streamstress Mandig) beamed brider, his ability good.
What hopends to they?
Giant crash in Aden. Birdflights confirm abbroaching nubtials. Burial of Lifetenant-Groevener Hatchett, R.I.D. Devine’s Previdence.
Ls. De.
Art thou gainous sense uncompetite! Limited. Anna Lynchya Pourable! One and eleven. United We Stand, even many oπered. Don’t forget. I wish auspicable thievesdayte for the stork dyrby. It will be a thousanne’s a won paddies. And soon to bet. On drums of bliss. With hapsalap troth, hip-salewd prudity, hopesalot honnessy, hoopsaloop luck. After when from midnights unwards the fourposter harp quartette. (Kiskiviikko, Kalastus. Torstaj, tanssia. Perjantaj, peleja. Lavantaj ja Sunnuntaj, christianismus kirjallisuus, kirjallisuus christianismus.) Whilesd this pellover his finnisch.
— Comither, ahorace, thou mighty man of valour, elderman adaptive of Capel Ysnod, and tsay-fong tsei-foun a laun bricksnumber till I’ve fined you a faulter-in-law, to become your son-to-be, gentlemens tealer, generalman seelord, gosse and bosse, hunguest and horasa, jonjemsums both in sails-manship, szed the head marines talebearer, then sayd the ship’s gospfather in the scat story to the husband’s capture, and either you does or he musts and this moment same, sayd he, so let laid pacts be being betving ye, he sayd, by my main makeshift, he sayd, one fisk and one flesk, as flat as, Aestmand Aedmundson you, you’re iron slides and so hompety domp as Paddley MacNamara here he’s a hardy canooter, for the two breasts of Banba are her soilers and her toilers, if thou wilt serve Idyall as thou hast sayld. Brothers Boathes, brothers Coathes, ye have swallen blooders’ oathes. And Gophar sayd unto Glideon and sayd he to the nowwedding captain, the rude hunnerable Humphrey, who was praying god of clothildies by the seven bosses of his trunktarge he would save bucklesome when she wooed belove on him, comeether, sayd he, my merrytime marelupe, you wutan whaal, sayd he, into the shipfolds of our quadruped island, bless madhugh, mardyk, luusk and cong! Blass Neddos bray! And no more of your maimed acts after this with your kowtows and criados to every tome, thick and heavy, and our onliness of his revelance to your ultitude The Illfollowable staying in wate for you with the winning word put into his mouth or be the hooley tabell, as Horrocks Toler hath most cares to call it, I’ll rehearse your comeundermends and first mardhyr you entirely. As puck as that Paddeus picked the pun and left the lollies off the foiled. A Trinity judge will crux your boom. Pat is the man for thy. Ay ay!
And he pured him beheild of the ouishguss, mingling a sign of the cruisk.
— I popetithes thee, Ocean, sayd he, Oscarvaughther, sayd he, Erievikkingr, sayd he, intra trifum triforium trifoliorum, sayd he, onconditionally, forfor furst of the gielgaulgulls and hero chief explunderer of the clansakiltic, sayd he, the steamerer’s mastress to the sea aasse cuddycoalman’s, and let this douche for you as a wholly apuzzler’s and for all the pukkeleens to the wakes of you, sayd he, out of the hellsinky of the howtheners and be danned to ye, sayd he, into our roomyo connellic relation, sayd he, from which our this pledge is given, Tera truly ternatrine if not son towards thousand like expect chrisanathems to which I osker your godhsbattaring, saelir, for as you gott kvold whereafter a gooden diggin and with gooder enscue from osion backfared agen fairioes feuded hailsohame til Edar in that the loyd mave hercy on your sael! Anomyn an awer. Spickinusand.
— Nansense, you snorsted? He was haltid considerable agenst all religions overtrow so hworefore the thokkurs pokker the bigbug miklamanded stor-store exploder would he be whulesalesolde daadaaped by Priest Gudfadren of the sacredhaunt suit in Diaeblen-Balkley at Domnkirk Saint Petricksburg? But, ear this!
— And here, aaherra, my rere admirable peadar poulsen, sayd he, consistently, to the secondnamed sutor, my lately lamented sponsorship, comesend round that wine and lift your horn, sayd he, to show you’re a skolar for, winter you liker or not, we brought your summer with us and, tomkin about your lief eurekason and his undishcovery of americle, be the rolling forties, he sayd, and on my sopper crappidamn, as Harris himself says, to let you in on some crismion dottrin, here is the ninethest pork of a man whisk swimmies in Dybblin water from Ballscodden easthmost till Thyrston’s Lickslip and, sayd he (whiles the heart of Lukky Swayn laughed in his icebox for to think of all the soorts of smukklers he would behave in juteyfrieze being forelooped to her), praties peel two hour goodsend Brandonius, filius of a Cara, spouse to Fynlogue, he has the nicesth pert of a nittlewoman in the house, la chito, la chato, la Charmadouiro, Tina-bat-Talur, cif for your fob and a tesoura astore for you, eslucilamp aswhen the surge seas sombren, that he daughts upon of anny livving plusquebelle, to child and foster, that’s the lippeyear’s wonder of Tottygo Newschool, two titty too at win winnie won, tramity trimming and funnity fare, with a grit as hard as the trent of the thimes but a touch as saft as the dee in flooing, and never a Hyderow Jenny the like of her lightness at look-and-you-leap, rheadoromanscing long evnans invairn about little Anny Roners and all the Lavinias of ester yours and pleding for them to herself in the periglus glatsch hangs over her trickle bed, it’s a piz of fortune if it never falls from the stuffel, and, when that mallaura’s over till next time, and all the prim rossies are out dressparading and the tubas tuot tuot for the glowry of their god, making every Dinny dingle after her down the Dargul dale and (wait awhile, blusterbuss, you’re marchadant too forte and don’t start furlan your ladins till you’ve learned the lie of her landuage!), when it’s summwer calding and she can hear the pianutunar beyant the bayondes in Combria sleepytalking to the Wiltsh muntons, titting out through her droemer window for the flyend of a touchman over the wishtas of English Strand, when Kilbarrack bell pings saksalaisance that Concessas with Sinbads may (pong!), where our dollimonde sees the phantom shape of Mr Fortunatus Wright since winksome Miss Bulkeley made loe to her wrecker and he took her to be a rover, O, and playing house of ivary dower of gould and gift you soil me peepat my prize, which its a blue loogoont for her in a bleakeyed seusan if she can’t work her mireiclles and give Norgeyborgey good airish timers, while her fresh racy turf is kindly kindling up the lovver with the flu, with a roaryboaryellas would set an Eriweddyng on fire, let aloon an old Humpopolamos with the boomarpoorter on his brain, aidan bay seye and dye, aasbukividdy, twentynine to her dozen and coocoo him dildulcey dovely to his old cawcaws’ huggin and munin for his strict privatear which there’s no pure rube like an ool pool roober when your pullar beer turns out Bruin O’Luinn and beat his barge into a battering pram with her wattling way for cubblin and, be me fairy fay, sayd he, the marriage mixter, to Kersse, son of Joe Ashe, her coaxfonder, wiry eyes and winky hair, timkin abeat your Andraws Meltons and his lovsang of the short and shifty, I will turn my thinks to things alove and I will speak but threes ones, sayd he, my truest patrious goodfounter, poles a port and zones asunder, tie up in hates and repeat at luxure, you can
better your tooblue prodestind arson, tyler bach, after roundsabouts and donochs and the volumed smoke, though the clonk in his stumble strikes warn, and were he laid out on that counter there like a Slavocrates amongst his skippies, when it comes to the ride onerable, sayd he, that’s to make plain Nanny Ni Sheeres a full Dinamarqueza, and all needed for the lay, from the husey on the montey with the room in herberge down to forkpiece and buckle-catch (Elding, my elding! and Lif, my lif!), in the pravacy of the pirma-nocturne, hap, sayd he, at that meet hour of night, and hop, sayd he, and the fyrsty annar everso thried (whiles the breath of Huppy Hullespond swumped in his seachest for to renumber all the mallymedears’ long roll and call of sweetheart emmas that every had a port in from Coxenhagen till the brottels on the Nile), while taylight is yet slipping under their pillow (ill omens on Kitty Cole if she’s spilling Paddy’s measure!) and before Sing Mattins in the Fields, ringsengd ringsengd, bings Heri the Concorant Erho and the Referinn Fuchs Gutmann gives us I’ll Bell the Welld or The Steeplepoy’s Revanger and all Thingavalley knows, for it’s never dawn in the dark but the deed comes to life, and raptist bride is aptest breed (tha lassy! tha lassy!), and, to buoy the hoop within us springing, ’tis no timbertar she’ll have then in her armsbrace to doll the dallydandle, our fiery quean, upon the night of the things of the night of the making to stand up the double tet of the oversear of the seize who cometh from the mighty deep and on the night of making Horuse to crihumph over his enemy, be the holp of me cope as so pluse the riches of the roedshields, with Elizabeliza blessing the bedpain at the willbedone of Yinko Jinko Randy, come Bastabasco and hippychip eggs, she will make a suomease pair and singlette, jodhpur smalls and tailerless, a copener’s cribful, leaf, bud and berry, the divlin’s own little mimmykin puss (hip, hip, horatia!), for my old comrhade Saltymar here, Briganteen-General Sir A. I. Magnus, the flappernooser, master of the good lifebark Ulivengrene of Onslought and the homespund of her hearth (Fuss his farther was the norse norse east and Muss his mother was a gluepot) and, gravydock or groovy anker, a hull-dread pursunk manowhood, who (with a chenchen for his delighttime and a bonzeye nappin through his doze) he is the bettest bluffy blondblubber of an olewidgeon what overspat a skettle in a skib.
Cawcaught. Coocaged.
And Dub did glow that night. In Fingal of victories. Cannmatha and Cathlin sang together. And the three shouters of glory-yelling halfviewed their harps. Surly Tuhal smiled upon drear Darthoola: and Roscranna’s bolgaboyo begirlified the daughter of Cormac. The soul of everyelsesbody rolled into its olesoleself. A doublemonth’s licence, lease on mirth, while hooneymoon and her flame went huneysuckling. Holyryssia, what boom of bells! What battle of bragues on Sandgate where Met the bobby mobbed his bibby mabbing through the ryce! Even Tombs left doss and dunnage down in Demidoff’s tomb and drew on the dournailed clogs that Morty Manning left him and legged in by Ghoststown Gate, like Pompei up to date, with a sprig of Whiteboys heather on his late Luke Elcock’s heirloom. And some say they seen old dummydeaf with a leaf of bronze on his cloak so grey, trooping his colour a pace to the reire. And as owfally posh with his halfcrown jool as if he was the Granjook Meckl or Paster de Grace on the Route de l’Epée. It was joobileejeu that All Sorts’ Jour. Freestouters and publicranks, hafts on glaives. You could hear them swearing threaties on the Cymylaya Mountains, man. And giving it out to the Ould Fathach and louthmouthing after the Healy Mealy with an enfysis to bring down the rain of Tarar. Nevertoletta! Evertomind! The grandest bethehailey seen or heard on earth’s conspectrum since Scape the Goat, that gafr, ate the Suenders bible. Hadn’t we heaven’s lamps to hide us? Yet every lane had its lively spark and every spark had his several spurtles and each spitfire spurtle had some trick of her trade, a tease for Ned, nook’s nestle for Fred and a peep at me mow for Peer Pol. So that Father Matt Hughes looked taytotally threbled. But Danno the Dane grimmed. Dune. ’Twere yeg will elsecare doatty lanv meet they dewscent hyemn to cannons’ roar and rifles’ peal vill shantey soloweys sang! For there were no more of Tyrrhanees for Laxembraghs was passthecupper to Our Lader’s. And it was dim upon the floods only and there was day on all the ground.
Thus street spins legends while wharves woves tales but some family fewds felt a nick in their name. Old Vickers sate down on their airs and straightened the points of their lace. Red Rowleys popped out of their lairs and asked what was wrong with the race. Mick na Murrough used dripping in layers to shave all the furze off his face. The Burke-Lees and Coyle-Finns paid full feines for their sinns when the Cap and Miss Coolie were roped.
Rolloraped.
With her banbax hoist from holder, zig for zag through pool and polder, cheap, cheap, cheap and Laughing Jack, all augurs scorenning, see the Bolche your pictures motion and Kitzy Kleinsuessmein eloping for that holm in Finn’s Hotel Fiord, Nova Norening. Where they pulled down the kuddle and they made fray and if thee don’t look homey, well, that Dook can eye Mae.
He goat a berth. And she cot a manege. And whoth’s gorse mundum ganna wedst.
Knock knock. War’s where! Which war? The twwinns. Knock knock. Woos without! Without what? An apple. Knock knock.
The kilder massed, one then and uhindred (harefoot, birdyhands, herring-abone, beesknees), and they barneydansked a kathareen round to know the who and to show the howsome. Why was you hiding, moder of moders? And where was hunty, poppa the gun? Pointing up to skyless heaven like the spoon out of sergeantmajor’s tay. Which was the worst of them phaymix cupplerts? He’s herd of hoarding and her faiths is altared. Becoming ungoing, their seeming sames for though that liamstone deaf do his part there’s a windtreetop whipples the damp off the mourning. But tellusit allasif well-asits end. And the lunger it takes the swooner they tumble two. He knows he’s just thrilling and she’s sure she’d squeam. The threelegged man and the tulippied dewydress. Lludd hillmythey, we’re brimming to hear! The durst he did and the first she ever? Peganeen Bushe, this isn’t the polkar, catch as you cancan when high land fling! And you, Tim Tommy Melooney, I’ll tittle your barents if you stick that pigpin upinto meh!
So, in the names of the balder and of the sol and of the hollichrost, ogso-wearit, trisexnone, and by way of letting the aandt out of her grosskropper and leading the mokes home by their gribes, whoopsabout a plabbaside of plobbicides, alaman alemon, poison kerls, on this mounden of Delude, and in the high places of Delude of Isreal, which is Haraharem and the diublin’s owld mounden, over against Vikens, from your tarns, thwaites and thorpes, withes, tofts and fosses, fells, haughs and shaws, lunds, garths and dales, mensuring the megnominous as so will is the littleyest, the myrioheartzed with toroidal coil, eira area round wantanajocky, fin above wave after duckydowndivvy, trader arm aslung beauty belt, the formor velican and nana karlikeena, sommerlad and cinderenda, Valtivar and Viv, and how Big Bil Brine Borumoter first took his gage at lil lolly lavvander waader since when capriole legs covets limbs of a crane and was it the twylyd or the mounth of the yare or the feint of her smell made the seomen assalt of her (in imageascene all: whimwhim whimwhim). To the laetification of disgeneration by neuhumourisation of our kristianiasation. As the last liar in the earth begeylywayled the first lady of the forest. Though Toot’s pardoosled sauve l’hummour! For the joy of the dew on the flower of the fleets on the fields of the foam of the waves of the seas of the wild main from Borneholm has jest come to crown.
Snip snap snoody. Noo err historyend goody. Of a lil trip trap and a big treeskooner for he put off the ketyl and they made three (for fie!) and if hec don’t love alpy then lad you annoy me. For hanigen with hunigen still haunt ahunt to finnd their hinnigen where Pappappapparrassannuaragheallachnatullaghmonganmacmacmacwhackfalltherdebblenonthedubblandaddydoodled and anruly person creeked a jest. Gestapose to parry off cheekars or frankfurters on the odor. Fine again, Cuoholson! Peace, O wiley!
Such was the act of goth stepping the tolk of Doolin, drain and plantage, wattle and daub, with you’ll peel as I’ll pale and we’ll pull the boath toground togutter, testies touchwood and shenst
one (incooperated) unto pop and puma, calf and condor, under all the gaauspices, the chal and his chi, their roammerin over, gribgrobgrab reining trippetytrappety (so fore shalt thou flow, else thy cavern hair!) towhom she (anit likenand pleasethee!). Till sealump becalmedump to bumpslump a li∫ebed (altolà, allamarsch! O gué, O gué!). Kaemper Daemper to Jetty de Waarft, all the weight of that mons on his little ribbeunuch! Him that gronde old mand to be that haard of heering (afore said) and her the petty tondur with the fix in her changeable eye (which see). Me lord, me lad, he goes with blow-bierd. Leedy, plasheous stream. But before that his loudship was converted to a landshop there was a little theogamyjig incidence that hoppy-go-jumpy Junuary morn, when he colluded with the cad out on the beg amudst the fionnaregal gaames of those oathmassed fenians for whome he’s forcecaused a bridge of the piers, at Inverleffy, mating pontine of their engagement, synnbildising graters and things, eke ysendt? O nilly, not all, here’s the first cataraction! As if ever she cared an assuan damm about her harpoons sticking all out of him whet between phoenix his calipers and that psourdonome sheath. Sdrats ye, Gus Paudheen! Kenny’s thought ye, Dinny Oozle! While the cit was leaking asphalt like a suburbiaurealis in his rure was tucking to him like old booths, booths, booths, booths.
Enterruption. Check or slowback. Dvershen.
Why, wonder of wenchalows, what o szeszame open, v doer s t doing? V door s being. But how theng thingajarry miens but this being becoming n z doer? K? Ano. It is ne not him what foots like a glove, shoehandschiner Pad Podomkin. Sooftly, anni slavey, szszuszchee is slowjaneska.
The aged crafty nummifeed confusionary overinsured everlapsing accentuated katekattershin clopped, clopped, clopped, darsey dobrey, back and along the danzing corridor, as she was going to pimpim him, way boy wally, not without her complement of cavarnan men, between the two death-dealing allied divisions and the lines of readypresent fire of the corked-agains’ upstored, taken in giving the saloot, band your hands going in, bind your heads coming out, and remoltked to herselp in her serf ’s alown, a weerpovy willowy dreevy drawly and the patter of so familiars, farabroads and behomeans, as she shure sknows, boof for a booby, boo: new uses in their mewseyfume. The jammesons is a cook in his hair. And the juinnesses is a rapin his hind. And the Bullingdong caught the wind up. Dip.