BUSTLE ADO.PART1

Now she stroke his brialliantine that she brouhaha,And gins to brownstudy,bruit abroad and brunching brunches to couch himself upon the brunette's lap to brunt the alight of the day's bubble, bustle ado himself. Bubbly bubbly,brush him off the broad couch as the weeping morn sleeping dusk becomes.On the morrow bustle ado himself out of the caesura of the emotive calaboose,the fugacious callow again belabour the cauldron of cacophonous toiling strife.Here comes and sits where the vulgarian fractions'captive audience hisses,the gallery players,coyed by medley's castigate doth he dance,Catholic winces shot as gregarious bandwagon jump,certificate of the dungeon,sometimes shuttles through cavernous voyage as cat's paw Cat's eye,Cerebrum in serfdom,cephalic in servitude,this squander seething seizeth him coarse on his sweating palm.Doth he pleads with trembling passion pithy precedence at the sentry of chanticleer,the charter of the fleeting fury?Now at dotage ilks themselves, charioteers,charlatans as chaperons in ambush guiltless bemoan,in rigmarole the circadian circus of the civvy street. He burns himself hoarse,doth he quench,himself with windy sigh and cheapjack immodest feet and cheeseparing not grin him like a Cheshire cat.He biten his cherry and behold how his cherry bites,a chimera of chunky pure shame retreats,which bred more bites in the vapourous ducks.So,offers she the cinderella at the cipher of cinches,to quash him religious relief,whereon civvies