Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 3
Lick-Pa-flai-hai-pa-Pa-li-si-lang-lang. Epi alo, ecou, Batiste, tu- vavnr dans Lptit boing going. Ismeme de bumbac e meias de por- tocallie. O.O. Os pipos mios es demasiada gruarso por O pic- colo pocchino. Wee fee? Ung duro. Kocshis, szabad? Mercy, and you? Gomagh, thak. And, Cod, says he with mugger's tears: Would you care to know the prise of a liard? Maggis, nick your nightynovel! Mass Tavener's at the mike again! And that bag belly is the buck to goat it! Meggeg, m'gay chapjappy fellow, I call our univalse to witness, as sicker as moyliffey eggs is known by our good househalters from yorehunderts of mamooth to be which they commercially are in ahoy high British quarters (conventional!) my guesthouse and cowhaendel credits will immediately stand ohoh open as straight as that neighbouring monument's fabrica- tion before the hygienic gllll (this was where the reverent sab- both and bottlebreaker with firbalk forthstretched touched upon his tricoloured boater, which he uplifted by its pickledhoopy (he gave Stetson one and a penny for it) whileas oleaginosity of an- cestralolosis sgocciolated down the both pendencies of his mut- sohito liptails (Sencapetulo, a more modestuous conciliabulite never curled a torn pocketmouth), cordially inwiting the adul- lescence who he was wising up to do in like manner what all did so as he was able to add) lobe before the Great Schoolmaster's. (I tell you no story.) Smile!