Making the Strong Stuff of Peoples (the verso)
|fig. 98) at this short hill.|
O' Pirate, I've heard your audience and was bitter made. They liked what was cruel and they said it was funny. O' stupid people believe the drip of their own sack. I've so heard as they've drunk themselves across the floor. Wishing at the corners and the heights that they've wished at, O' these darlings, these dears, and all. One shouts at the nude toilet. Another’s sock cries cotton from a worthless mouth. They're all clang, they're all of raised arms to bb. O' I expect better from them what nose these plates. What smote this booze and divine it's whim. I expect the expectable too just not from them what's bitter when this time is so ragged.