Dialogue of Mutt and Jute in Finnegans Wake

In the name of Anem this carl on the kopje in pelted thongs a parth a lone who the joebiggar be he? Forshapen his pigmaid hoagshead, shroonk his plodsfoot. He hath locktoes, this shortshins, and, Obeold that’s pectoral, his mammamuscles most mousterious. It is slaking nuncheon out of some thing’s brain pan. Me seemeth a dragon man. He is almonthst on the kiep fief by here, is Comestipple Sacksoun, be it junipery or febrewery, marracks or alebrill or the ramping riots of pouriose and froriose. What a quhare soort of a mahan. It is evident the michindaddy. Lets we overstep his fire defences and these kraals of slitsucked marrogbones. (Cave!) He can prapsposterus the pillory way to Hirculos pillar. Come on, fool porterfull, hosiered women blown monk sewer? Scuse us, chorley guy! You tollerday donsk? N. You tolkatiff scowegian? Nn. You spigotty anglease? Nnn. You phonio saxo? Nnnn. Clear all so! ‘Tis a Jute. Let us swop hats and excheck a few strong verbs weak oach eather yapyazzard abast the blooty creeks.

Jute.       Yutah!
Mutt.      Mukk’s pleasurad.
Jute.       Are you jeff?
Mutt.      Somehards.
Jute.       But you are not jeffmute?
Mutt.      Noho. Only an utterer.
Jute.       Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
Mutt.      I became a stun a stummer.
Jute.       What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How Mutt?
Mutt.      Aput the buttle, surd.
Jute.       Whose poddle? Wherein?
Mutt.      The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
Jute.       You that side your voise are almost inedible to me. Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you.”
Mutt.      Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I rimimirim!
Jute.       One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all your hasitancy cross your qualm with trink gilt. Here have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good for you.
Mutt.      Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intellible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy! He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here where the liveries, Monomark. There where the missers moony, Minnikin passe.
Jute.       Simply because as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstoryshortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to soil here.
Mutt.      Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a riverpool.
Jute.       Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse like?
Mutt.      Somular with a bull on a clompturf. Rooks roarum rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn, with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton on, did Brian d’ of Linn.
Jute.       Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a patwhat as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and umscene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
Mutt.      Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dunblink roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone to wail whimbrel to peewee o’er the saltings, where wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of signory, icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr. Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence:  hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
Jute.       ‘Stench!
Mutt.      Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an’ everynight life olso th’estrange, babylone the greatgrandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv.
Jute.       ‘Zmorde!
Mutt.      Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Despond’s sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust and being humus the same roturns. He who runes may rede it on all fours. O’c’stle, n’wc’stle, tr’c’stle, crumbling! Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin! Humblady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in your whisht!
Jute.       Whysht?
Mutt.      The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay.
Jute.       Howe?
Mutt.      Here is viceking’s graab.
Jute.       Hwaad!
Mutt.      Ore you astoneaged, jute you?
Jute.       Oye am thonthorstrok, thing mud.

(Stoop) if you are abcedminded, to this claybook, what curios of signs (please stoop), in this allaphbed! Can you rede (since We and Thou had it out already) its world? It is the same told
of all. Many. Miscegenations on miscegenations. Tieckle. They lived und laughed ant loved end left. Forsin. Thy thingdome is given to the Meades and Porsons. The meandertale, aloss and again, of our old Heidenburgh in the days when Head-in-Cloudswalked the earth.

(James Joyces, Finnegans Wake, Chapter 1).