The Thrice New’d Holy Day @DonatinosElBiggestGameInUpTown

And      She   said to   Me from the   Quipping  Pool

 That I must pitch in if My tentings Wool

And the Winds have calmed My tempers Sprue

  But ne’er so much that Thy Maidens toulle

Forskorning to hip pen plood Thy nearbourne fry

 Whetting the wrubs of a Dickied baye

All a swoollen wits the temptender rut

   Of a deer nayed Two pen a buck nayed Gunn

Of pen the Nidler We heard the Cuppes

 No ben that You should see Us passed

Without stopping ere, air upon the loods

  Pen up of the maitre de

Ben non forswoot the Remembranes lay

 O’er the felds We brök pen the Gains We spade

Ben per pen burying the Masterred Slave

   Pen stavering the stevedoried grave

Of the ganderdom’s melhighfallutin shave

 Juicen’s upper lip ne’er quif’d such hay

As when Harry let Georges Lloyd take the Winston’s paid

  Pen strut wide the lungs upon a pauver’s rule

That a one is one pen that the streets are cruel

 Ne’er stopping up the carriaging

Ne’er holding back the director’s sling

   Pen where Iesu bourne the day We hung Hirth Rom’

Waswen the Christ was Bourne pen the Christ We slayed

 Wastwen a day He ros’ pen the day We c’leb

Some call ”Christmas“ but observe not Lent

  Fishin’ for misgivings under the Artificer’ Trent’

Gift-by-Gift giving no repent, but ben slinging all

 Dury’s recompense, half-compt’ for naughts

No non but We did scrave, pression into words

   Per the womber’s way, crazing His cucumberbatch

Ben the tüber’s cave, al fors Our Mother’s mudder’

 Houghing gayes, they the Merrier’s spung, whatwen

Tender swolling days, went the Breasts gather

  A babe’s true gaze, pen the doctored quits

Pen the Docsur’d pein, that the clumpen slump

 Ber fend no medischen’s strave, but an fors the wits

Pen kers the Scrantonned sprawn of the Carpenned gaies

   Now had We awourned You once twice a bon the Emptor’s quay

Would We feel less the Felt per Our Gloriomman’s en scontra tabes

 Yedter oust the vertating per Version’s waid,

Sincing We were not yorwarned per ben Your estatislake,

  Thenvincing not We took yorfested pen capped Your day

Appraising the Sale of props nativies prop’s

 Pen slayer’s mind levits player laid

Until three had once three old holidays

   Renewed pure bence the New Holy Day

Wentwy the Iesu stab’d, to ackrussify strait’s beirungeis

 Ber the Manger’d empt’d pen the Ackribber’d Wambe,

Rob’d in the Swadler’d hush of the Portain’d grav’,

  We had prought wits rom’ upon Golgatheren’s tom’,

Spirit of destinates carpe did still driv’ Him tomb’d,

 Har’ly dead as yet, Wentwy to lobbers Hum’,

Hanging hammer’s from the Limb’d alabastard’s Joom,

   Al fors a booming wail’d up the Mother’s Rheum,

Pen She’d rub Her wits upon the Wearer’s crumb’,

 Pen She’d spread Her tips upon the Hoplit’s cranking wounds

Pen She’d the flesh of bab’s slip pen fall forswoan,

  Until the Scrempted bod’s by-the-bab’t’ds’ had hormoon’d,

Pauper’d mence the tarr’d halker’s spoon,

 Silver’d artefacts, We relic’d every gyne ’til the drunken prun’d

Truest Holy Day did We the Newest Day holify per sacer’s groom

   Our Sapience hierarch’d high bov’ the empt’ds’ woom,

Wentwy when the Christ’d bod’ had toom’d,

 As did Æther’s candid host’s melifacsim’d greys,

Al fors the Tripartin’d Well of Our Holy Day’s’,

  Wentwyne the Suffering Year the tristant tripellier,

Per Dietrich’s pent a redder’d black stood thain,

 Wentwy the Ignitre Dei triplet trillalling

A liminale pro per somnet’s bray’d

   Lentil postrad’ We f’rom’ a house-tea-house,

Until the News spread We of the Newest hence,

 So al a fors We cam’ jus’ as fas’ as wen’,

No stopful resting pot’ nor stranger’ds’ gear,

  Until by-the-backing god We had striv’d to tonguing ears,

Bröking each c’lebran’d by the portion’d tree’d

 Ber chop’d down Thy woods to fest’n’d ackrux’ds’ en scontra paynes

Have nowy the Woebbl’r’s’ flit closcut’n’d the price

Ars. i. Of Salv’n’s ’complis accompl’s’d. Now, Bourne:

We had hung Him ackrux’d.

Ars. ii. Now, Hough’n’d toom:

He saw We Him rais’n’d.

Ars. iii. Now, Rais’n’d:

We Him of the day thric’n’d Holy.

Ars. iv. Now, Sacr’n’d:

We lim Our Sacr’d Day-to-Day,

Onc’n the Year now thric’d We

The Holy’s al ex for Troom’d

Ars. v. Now, do We Praise Him:

We have don’d the Act’ns’

Al en fors We deem’d per Act’n’d

Wewear the Garb’n’d hatter’ds’ Gey’n

Free’d upprais’ns’ of the Persacr’m’d

Deed’st Thee shall We have don’d’r’d

Ars. vi. Now, now, now, Quid:

Per al ex fors shall We have don’d’r’d

We shall per en miso ulter ob’ds’ People

Ars. vii. Now, thriv’ thric’d the Day’ds’ Am’n:

Am’n’d thric’d t’Day the Holy’s Am’n

Ars. viii. Now, al fors the Am’ns’ Five We rais’d:

Am’ns’, do We then per al en fors the Act’n’s’

Thin’ Your Auctor’ds’ ’quip ordain unreserv’d

Ars. ix. Now, res al ex Our vest’d fors’n in the Am’n’ds’

Deed en Dier’d’r’ls’ Wayn’ps’ the Amcompletr’ds’


Am’nts’ We ag’n plus henc’ We forth the Rights

Your Godnessen’s New’s Day’d Germ’n’nt’n Holy

Will’d this Us unto Our Chinchild’r’s Chil’ds’

Inherit’ns’ Wealth

Ars. x. Am ben ag’n Min’:

Ang’n ag’n We have aug’d Ye Your auctor’d emp’s

Happy baye Yours, Thine Holy Dayes !

Holiest, al ex fors of Thee have We done Amens!

We bayed Ours Thine, the Amensing Don’d! The Amansi’s Throne en fors per habescu cum ber bades! Res al per bang upon Your ackounters’ printers’ reel! An’d paid up Ye Hers the res comptscion vot’rs’ f’rom’ forgivens’ counter : An offer by Her profundity’s main good, a maiden’s gratuition upon the dreary paves of the godless’ requiematers of the provostened’s year. All upon Ye Her spirits proof, as She persuaged Me this pens that : that quitting not this Life, She would the Living requiter the Sacr’m’n’d of Fritzgerald’s Escutcheor, making Me pen per Mein the Executoris of Fritzror.

⫸ Sent from Christ’s Hole, V & L, Springfield thru Chicago, TC‑MN, via Machine #30#31 running Lloyd’s Class Acting Process (CLAPro)  pid###CHRSTMSMNPRCSSUSA.

Copyright © 2003, Victoria Lauraine Endglesh. All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2011, The Crenshaw Group. All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2019, The Turner-Gradios Cent. Administration. All rights reserved.

Public Availability of this Permanent Electronic Record Courtesy of the New World Rolling Publik Syndication ABI, Chicago, Minneapolis, and New York, CCMEMORIS.

RM⟫ “Trade Thyself!”


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