Re: The pain, the pain

Douglas Berry wrote:
> Of course, I immediately thought of a *** scene written by James
> Joyce.

How would you know?

oh he's gonenaught the shoulder bhoy, to the tantranks of small death 
you'll find him girdin on and harping on his father's sword afore and 
ahind. The merry mary hind who the keeper's wood a shooting go, under 
his arms he'll bear a bow! Jacky boy! Master your bait! Sing ye well, 
deeply well. Now the picture hauls the bowl, now he leaves it go, and 
ominous gall is tripartite -- weenie! weedy! weakly! -- seize her and 
cease her and con her ruby cross. The die is crass! The earth is salt 
and pampered. Lo, the light! my fire! a lucky strike indeed! elle est
et femme tea! souled, a merry can! nautical in a coffin load! So know 
he's a'soiled, yer boy, to a mad gazelle from parliementary polly voo

Kip W