the moth
I’m a tiny tiny thing
Ever flying in the spring
Round and round a ringaring.
Long ago I was a king,
Now I do this kind of thing
On the wing, on the wing!
Bing!
(He rushes against the mauve shade flapping noisily). Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats.
henry
(In a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his guitar.) There is a flowerthat bloometh.
stephen
(To himself.) Play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Filling my belly withhusks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to my. Expect this is the. Steve, thou art in a parlous way. Must visit old Deasy or telegraph. Our interview of this morning has left on me a deep impression. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I’m partially drunk, by the way. (He touches the keys again.) Minor chord comes now. Yes. Not much however.