From Keighley onwards we had obviously returned to civilisation, for the surrounding country was now studded with the sodium street lights of suburbia and a thickening industrial haze was blotting out the moon.

Man still money dance in the bando L1 in the cut two rambos I love skengs and peds, violence no meds They say one-fifty but it's one-four-six, true there friend dem dead

Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me, till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head

I’ll spot you ten dollars for lunch.