Author / OAOA

by OAOA

Moby Ipsum

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“I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.”

“Well, that’s funny.”

“And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and they, are all bats; and I’m a crow, especially when I stand a’top of this pine tree here. Caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! Ain’t I a crow? And where’s the scare-crow? There he stands; two bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers, and two more poked into the sleeves of an old jacket.”

“Wonder if he means me?—complimentary!—poor lad!—I could go hang myself. Any way, for the present, I’ll quit Pip’s vicinity. I can stand the rest, for they have plain wits; but he’s too crazy-witty for my sanity. So, so, I leave him muttering.”

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by OAOA

T’Lipsum – Yorkshire Ipsum

Th’art nesh thee nay lad soft lad wacken thi sen up t’foot o’ our stairs. Nay lad where’s tha bin. Th’art nesh thee a pint ‘o mild any rooad t’foot o’ our stairs. Where there’s muck there’s brass t’foot o’ our stairs ah’ll gi’ thee a thick ear. Ah’ll learn thi tintintin tell thi summat for nowt soft lad mardy bum. Chuffin’ nora ah’ll box thi ears soft lad ee by gum tell thi summat for nowt ah’ll gi’ thee a thick ear. Bobbar nay lad. Breadcake soft southern pansy wacken thi sen up. Be reet where’s tha bin mardy bum mardy bum. Tell thi summat for nowt where there’s muck there’s brass shu’ thi gob. Dahn t’coil oil. That’s champion ey up will ‘e ‘eckerslike shurrup by ‘eck. Eeh. Shu’ thi gob face like a slapped arse god’s own county soft lad th’art nesh thee tha daft apeth.

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