This is the jinnies’ hast-ings dispatch for to irrigate the Wil ingdone. Dispatch in thin red lines cross the shortfront of me Belchum. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Leaper Orthor. Fear siecken! Fieldgaze thy tiny frow. Hugacting. Nap. That was the tictacs of the jinnies for to fontannoy the Wil ingdone. Shee, shee, shee!

The jinnies is jil ous agincourting al the lipoleums. And the lipoleums is gonn boycottoncrezy onto the one Wil ingdone. And the Wil ingdone git the band up. This is bode Belchum, bonnet to busby, breaking his secred word with a bal up his ear to the Wil ingdone. This is

file:///E|/Books/Top%20100%20Novels%20list/Finnegans%20Wake/complete.html[9/12/2007

12:21:58 PM]

Finnegans Wake, by James Joyce

the Wil ingdone’s hur-old dispitchback. Dispitch desployed on the regions rare of me Belchum. Salamangra! Ayi, ayi, ayi! Cherry jinnies. Figtreeyou!

Damn fairy ann, Voutre. Wil ingdone. That was the first joke of Wil ingdone, tic for tac. Hee, hee, hee! This is me Belchum in his twelvemile cowchooks, weet, tweet and stampforth foremost, footing the camp for the jinnies. Drink a sip, drankasup, for he’s as sooner buy a guinness than he’d stale store stout. This is Roo-shious bal s. This is a ttrinch. This is mistletropes. This is Canon Futter with the popynose. After his hundred days’ indulgence. This is the blessed. Tarra’s widdars!

This is jinnies in the bonny bawn blooches. This is lipoleums in the rowdy howses. This is the Wil ingdone, by the splinters of Cork, order fire. Tonnerre! (Bul sear! Play!) This is camelry, this is floodens, this is the solphereens in action, this is their mobbily, this is panickburns. Almeidagad! Arthiz too loose! This is Wil ingdone cry.