Article 3

I had kestrel dustry
albino luster
aménagée all lit
fully fragrant

It spake sea-chant
circulating none-the-
less potter singing
high in a motive "Scat!

You ought to flat her!"
O the poor ambient
And the pistol
entered fifteen to one

to shout out and rung a
ding-a-dong split
likeliest grunted on
so Dearie could sleep

an' munching Pascal Bell
a squinch was foundered

Bless her trammel