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He kistured lester noko grai adree the steeple-chase for the ruppeny kek, a sonnakai tank I think it was, but he nashered. It was dovo tano rye that yeck divvus in his noko park dicked a Rommany chal's tan pash the rikk of a bor; and at yeck leap he kistered apre the bor, and jalled right atut an' parl the Rommany chal's tan.
Yeck divvus he was kisterin' on a kushto grai, an' he dicked a Rommany chal rikkerin' a truss of gib-puss 'pre lester dumo pral a bitti drum, an' kistered 'pre the pooro mush, puss an' sar. I jins that puro mush better 'n I jins tute, for I was a'ter yeck o' his raklis yeckorus; he had kushti-dick raklis, an' he was old Knight Locke. "Puro," pens the rye, "did I kair you trash?"
And I penned, 'Any thing dush? 'Worse nor dovo. 'What is the covvo? Says yuv, 'Mandy kaums tute to jal to my pal don't spare the gry mukk her jal! So he del mi a fino grai, and I kistered eight mee so sig that I thought I'd mored her. An' I pet her dree the stanya, an' I jalled a lay in the puv and' odoi I dicked Job. "And he pens as he was mullerin.
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