Ourrichar Gangridge / Our little language
Good mallows, little sirrahs –
Slidikins, I have been …
Slids, I would …
I can say Iele yet oo see – Fais I dont conceal a bitt.
as hope savd.
Ppt. Ppt.
I am as helpless as an elephant.
Uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.
Well, little monkies mine,
I must go write;
and so good night,
and so good night,
And zoo must cly Lele,
and Hele, and Hele aden.
Must loo mimitate pdfr, pay?
Iss, and so la shall.
And so leles fol ee rettle.
Dood mollow.
Ppt. Ppt.
Nite my deelest lives.
He gave me al bsadnuk lboinlpl dfaonr
ufainfbtoy dpionufnad!
Stella, Dingley, Presto, all together,
now and forever all together.
Nite deelest Sollahs;
farwell deelest Rives;
rove poopoopdfr farwell deelest richar Md,
Me Me Lele, Me, lele lele richar Md.
So flap ee hand, &
make wry mouth eeself sawci doxi
Lele I can say lele it ung oomens
Iss I tan, well as oo.
Tis rate sollahs; I ant dlunk.
Meetinks I begin to want a Rettle
flom MD, fais, and so I do.
Iss fais it is delightfull
to hear that Ppt is every way Ppt now.
Bed oo paadon, Maram,
I’am drad oo rike oo Aplon
no harm I hope, –
And so te ung.
O the sirry Zade …
O  Rold hot a Cruttle & a Bustle –
I would hoenlbp ihainm italoi dsroanws ubpl
tohne sroeqporaensiepnotlastoiqobn
but oo must not now zees sings, zey are secrets, &
we must keep them flom nauty dallars.
lele logues and
Ladies bose fais and …
Farewell deelest deel Md,
and rove pdfr dearly dearly,
Farewell Md Md FW FW FW Me Me Me Lele
lele lele lele — & lele and lele aden.
O Rold, dlunken Srut drink pdfrs health
ten times in a molning.
O poo ppt, lay down ee heads aden;
fais I flodive ee.
Iele deel Me Iele Iele Iele sollahs bose.
High do oo write by tandle light
nauti nauti nauti dallar a hundld times fol doing so.
Nite dee sollahs, I’ll go seep a dazey.
A melly Tlismas; melli Tlismas, I sd it first.
I’ll take my reave. Go play Cards & be melly
sollahs, & rove pdfr who roves Md bettle zan his Rife.
Nite poo dee Md
Nite poo dee Md.
Nite dee Md.
Nite Md.
Iele Iele
Iele Logues ad
Ladies bose fais
and …
Agreable B—tch—
Uit Jonathan Swift: Journal to Stella (1710 – 1713) gesprokkeld door Anneke Brassinga