The following from MS p. 289 was intended for insertion after "hard upon": They have through stairladder and the corridor of the heart a many a merry of taproom tales of Sim and Sam, a lais of ancient home to Llandudno chorals, the queerest quiss you'd care to quizz [was Breman on the moor and Tom Fanagan's weak but he's still going strong]: how the lady O'Malley, a queen of graces, to the screes of Ben Edar came, to Hoved's chalet entrance raliss in hunterland, would night there but was denied, being unknown, so stole its heir, and went and came, again unknown, or her germaine, to earl changelord's hall but found it ever closed to her but her third veering when she sent in her cowriecard countycousine's, Annetta Little Pranksomepark, let an imp into the lime of the lawrences and planted the enjamblement of the castlegrounds under the head in the faculty of tedious chaos and sunpromeners. Where hunks may an her hantle courts coorts enticing enticin Amy may lose amy loooky lass may be prived of a pleat or so.

DRAFT TWO: Scribbledehobbles are at bent on their pensums reading nails & biting lips. Trifid tongue others woo & work for [the backslapper gladhander] and dove without gall and she whose mind's a jackdaw's nest of [tearing up letters she never wrote] to solve dulcarnon's dire twohorned twohornedheaded dilemma what stumped bold Alexander and drove him to pulfer turnips. But, my hat, what a world of weariness is theirs waiting to hear their own mistakes! For how many guldens would one walk now to the pillar? For one hundred? For one hundred's thousand? And to what will't all serve them in an after reeraw world. Will it make of one a good milker having been brought up on superlatives? Will he go away in a peajacket and not be silly? Or where will he find funds to smoke a whole box of matches per day? Or if she makes an earth of heaven will she lilt Barney take me home again? As long as Una reads serials in a bummeltrain [with a lot of unexciting trousers about] it is wholly probable that the holy parable the worst at last at least may happen, such as go to meet Mary, miss Mamy & mary Meg. Why ask her or Tossy Madden sense from what she's read since every annal has its own aroma? Quid vobis videtur? And even the remembering a tree is too beautiful for her to listen. Small blame to her then if she shook her shoe off at geography class, doing rivers of India with a whisper of wilfulove heard round the world.

DRAFT ONE (FDV): While one word burrows another, standfast standfest towelturbaned and flower [in her wrap around], face full of flesh and fat as hen's in forehead [Airy Anna & Blue Bart [royal pair in the house of the 100 bottles]] discusst the past the angerache of their love & the hungerbrewd [it bore them [the fairs at home & expurge trade]] and walking progress hinks linkafuss foremost the shellroad path from dayfal to the shrilling of the crowcrested, scribbledehoys scribbledehobbles are bent on their pensums. Trifid tongue, others woo will and work for, and dove without gall, the backslapping gladhander his singing likeness, and she whose mind's a jilldaw's nest who tears up letters she never put pen upon when bother her hair's in a queer of a mood. As if that three could solve a twohornheaded dulcarnon that stumped Alex among anders and drove him to pulfer turnips. And, my hat, what a worldall of weariness is theirs waiting to hear their proper mistakes! For how many guldens would one post now to the pillar? For one hundred? For one hundred's thousand? And to what will't all serve them in an after reeraw life? If a gas consumer [habituated to marble mentuls] buys a dozen of apples every first Friday during a whole leap year at the weight of seven sesterces per pound overthepoise, [taking abbacco as .7 [& letting born of buirushes stand for any W (Here, as elsewhere, Joyce used a "W" for "woman.")] ] how many what grand total of sentinels [in reindeer pelts [& aided by a span of oxen [fed on Trinidad's shell cocoa [in sheets & sheets of rein]]]] will it take to paper a trench fifteen yards longer than breadth a cobbler's bulk is broad? Will it make of one a good milker the having been brought up on superlatives? Or will he go away in a peajacket and just not be silly or not care toppings for the birthrate and lean longingly on his lentils? Or where will he find funds to smoke a whole box of matches diurnally? Or if she makes an earth of heaven will she lilt that Barney take her home again? For so long as shes in dimity read serials in a bummeltrain with a lot of uninteresting duck trousers hanging around it is as wholly probable as a holy parable that the worst at least at last may happen, such as go to meet Mary, miss Mamy and marry Meg. Why ask her or Tossy Madden sense from anything that shred since every annual has its own aroma? Quid vobis videtur? Even remembering of a tree is too beautiful for her spellbound to listen. /  Small blame be her's therefore if she shook her shoe off at geography class giggle doing rivers of India with a whisper of wilfulness heard round the giddying globe!