Body

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,

Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away, Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, And let ourselves benight our happiest day...

So, so. Break off this last lamenting cig.,

And stub, stub, stub.

Smack! Down on the desk goes the great Jim's book and Heave!

towards me the battered old upright Imperial...

Screw in a sheet of more or less purloined

The property of

Oxfordshire County Council

We asked none leave to love; nor will we owe

Any, so cheap a death,

As saying, Go;

Go: and if that word have not quite killed thee

And bash,

Bb-bash on

A pause to stff and light this pipe I bought some baccy at the garage but it's a dammnably dry batch

But better buff, puff,

Cigarettes being a notoriously bad smoke when you're typing, the smoke gets in your eyes

Eases his aching buttocks on the bench, selects from the proffered annotated ivoryellowed

Mushroomed eyeballs

Ease me with death, by bidding me go too.

Oh if it have, let my word work on thee, and a just office on a murderer do.

Except it be too late,

to kill me so, being double dead,

going,

and bidding,

go.

So that the tears stream down as you bbash, bash away, conveying an altogether spurious impression of intense emotional involvement on the part of the typist with the typed

A bell rings, rings, rings.

Go chide late schoolgirls.

Krummhorn, Rohrflote, Terz und Quint,

Mixtur, Rauschpfife:

Fertig?

Stimmt!