Book Name: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Writer: James Joyce
Quite a long time ago and an awesome time it was there was a moocow descending along the street and this moocow that was descending along the street met a nicens young man named infant tuckoo…
His dad revealed to him that story: his dad took a gander at him through a glass: he had a shaggy face.
He was infant tuckoo. The moocow descended the street where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt.
O, the wild rose blooms
On the little green spot.
He sang that tune. That was his melody.
O, the green wothe botheth.
At the point when you wet the bed first it is warm then it gets cold. His mom put on the oilsheet. That had the eccentric smell.
His mom had a more pleasant smell than his dad. She played on the piano the mariner’s hornpipe for him to move.
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