/lit/ - Literature

As my explanations here are probably above your understand-
ings, lattlebrattons, though as augmentatively uncomparisoned
as Cadwan, Cadwallon and Cadwalloner, I shall revert to a more
expletive method which I frequently use when I have to sermo
with muddlecrass pupils. Imagine for my purpose that you are a
squad of urchins, snifflynosed, goslingnecked, clothyheaded,
tangled in your lacings, tingled in your pants, etsitaraw etcicero.
And you, Bruno Nowlan, take your tongue out of your inkpot!
As none of you knows javanese I will give all my easyfree trans-
lation of the old fabulist's parable. Allaboy Minor, take your
head out of your satchel! Audi Joe Peters! Exaudi facts!

The Mookse and The Gripes.

Gentes and laitymen, fullstoppers and semicolonials, hybreds
and lubberds!

Eins within a space and a weary wide space it wast ere wohned
a Mookse. The onesomeness wast alltolonely, archunsitslike,
broady oval, and a Mookse he would a walking go (My hood!
cries Antony Romeo), so one grandsumer evening, after a great
morning and his good supper of gammon and spittish, having
flabelled his eyes, pilleoled his nostrils, vacticanated his ears and
palliumed his throats, he put on his impermeable, seized his im-
pugnable, harped on his crown and stepped out of his immobile
De Rure Albo (socolled becauld it was chalkfull of masterplasters
and had borgeously letout gardens strown with cascadas, pinta-
costecas, horthoducts and currycombs) and set off from Luds-
town a spasso to see how badness was badness in the weirdest of
all pensible ways.

It was a dark and stormy night...