the dreamskhwindel necklassoed him,his thumbs fell into his fists and, lusosing the harmonical balanceof his ballbearing extremities, by the holy kettle, like a flask oflightning over he careened (O the sons of the fathers!) by themightyfine weight of his barrel (all that prevented the happeringof who if not the asterisks betwink themselves shall ever?) and,as the wisest postlude course he could playact, collaspsed in en-semble and rolled buoyantly backwards in less than a twink-ling via Rattigan’s corner out of farther earshot with his highlycurious mode of slipashod motion, surefoot, sorefoot, slick foot, slackfoot, linkman laizurely, lampman loungey, and by Killesther’slapes and falls, with corks, staves and treeleaves and more bub-bles to his keelrow a fairish and easy way enough as the town cowcries behind the times in the direction of Mac Auliffe’s, the crucet-house, Open the Door Softly, down in the valley before he wasreally uprighted ere in a dip of the downs (uila!) he spoorlesslydisappaled and vanesshed, like a popo down a papa, from circularcirculatio. Ah, mean!

Parece que Shaun, al mirar al cielo, se ha caído de nuevo al fondo de su barril. Es sus particular Felix Culpa!