A writing-through of the eighth chapter of Ulysses.
Bad for their tummies. <117.14>
If you leave a bit of codfish <117.32>
Brewery barge with export stout <118.10>
Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper <121.4>
Wait. The full moon was the night we were <130.17>
at the tables calling for more bread no charge <131.40>
Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. <135.28>
like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips <137.43>
Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where? <143.36>