N+0

In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to have known,
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello.

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar,
The little children laugh at him behind his back.
And the banker never wears a mac
In the pouring rain, very strange.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back

In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It's a clean machine.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back

Behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer,
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim.
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain, very strange.

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back.
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Penny Lane.

N+1

In Penny-farthing Language there is a barbiturate showing photographers
Of every headache he's had the pleat to have known,
And all the pepper that come and go
Stop and say helm.

On the cornerstone is a banking with a motorcar,
The little childhoods laughter at him behind his backbench.
And the banking never weasels a mac
In the pouring rainbow, very strange.

Penny-farthing Language is in my eardrums and in my eyeballs.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbench

In Penny-farthing Language there is a fireplace with an house
And in his pocketbook is a portrayal of the Queer.
He likes to keep his firearm engineer cleaner,
It's a cleaner machinery.

Penny-farthing Language is in my eardrums and in my eyeballs.
A four of fisherman and fingermark pieces
In summerhouse, meanwhile backbench

Behind the shepherd in the middlebrow of the roundup
A pretzel nursemaid is semester poppies from a treachery
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Penny-farthing Language the barbiturate shaves another cutback,
We see the banking situation waiting for a trimaran.
And then the fireplace rushes in
From the pouring rainbow, very strange.

Penny-farthing Language is in my eardrums and in my eyeballs.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbench.
Penny-farthing Language is in my eardrums and in my eyeballs.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Penny-farthing Language.

N+2

In Penpusher Lantern there is a bard showing photographys
Of every headband he's had the pleb to have known,
And all the peppercorn that come and go
Stop and say helmet.

On the cornet is a banknote with a motorcar,
The little childminders launch at him behind his backbencher.
And the banknote never weathers a mac
In the pouring raincoat, very strange.

Penpusher Lantern is in my earls and in my eyebrows.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbencher

In Penpusher Lantern there is a fireplug with an houseboat
And in his pocketful is a pose of the Query.
He likes to keep his fireball engineering cleaning,
It's a cleaning machinist.

Penpusher Lantern is in my earls and in my eyebrows.
A four of fishery and fingernail piers
In summing-up, meanwhile backbencher

Behind the shepherdess in the middleman of the rouse
A prevention nursery is semibreve poppies from a treadle
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Penpusher Lantern the bard shaves another cutlass,
We see the banknote sixpence waiting for a trimming.
And then the fireplug rushes in
From the pouring raincoat, very strange.

Penpusher Lantern is in my earls and in my eyebrows.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbencher.
Penpusher Lantern is in my earls and in my eyebrows.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Penpusher Lantern.

N+3

In Pension Lanyard there is a bargain showing photostats
Of every headboard he's had the plebeian to have known,
And all the peppermint that come and go
Stop and say helmsman.

On the cornfield is a bankroll with a motorcar,
The little chills launder at him behind his backbone.
And the bankroll never weathercocks a mac
In the pouring raindrop, very strange.

Pension Lanyard is in my earldoms and in my eyefuls.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbone

In Pension Lanyard there is a fireside with an houseboy
And in his pockmark is a poser of the Quest.
He likes to keep his firebomb englishman cleanser,
It's a cleanser macintosh.

Pension Lanyard is in my earldoms and in my eyefuls.
A four of fishing and fingerprint pierces
In summit, meanwhile backbone

Behind the sherbet in the midge of the rout
A preview nursing is semicircle poppies from a treadmill
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pension Lanyard the bargain shaves another cutlet,
We see the bankroll size waiting for a trinket.
And then the fireside rushes in
From the pouring raindrop, very strange.

Pension Lanyard is in my earldoms and in my eyefuls.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backbone.
Pension Lanyard is in my earldoms and in my eyefuls.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pension Lanyard.

N+4

In Pensioner Lap there is a bargaining showing phrases
Of every headdress he's had the plectrum to have known,
And all the perambulator that come and go
Stop and say helper.

On the cornflower is a bankrupt with a motorcar,
The little chillis launderette at him behind his backcloth.
And the bankrupt never weathermen a mac
In the pouring rainforest, very strange.

Pensioner Lap is in my earlobes and in my eyelashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backcloth

In Pensioner Lap there is a firework with an housebreaker
And in his pod is a poseur of the Question.
He likes to keep his firebrand engraver clearance,
It's a clearance mackerel.

Pensioner Lap is in my earlobes and in my eyelashes.
A four of fishmonger and fingertip pierrots
In summons, meanwhile backcloth

Behind the sheriff in the midget of the route
A prey nurture is semiconductor poppies from a treasure
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pensioner Lap the bargaining shaves another cutter,
We see the bankrupt sizzle waiting for a trio.
And then the firework rushes in
From the pouring rainforest, very strange.

Pensioner Lap is in my earlobes and in my eyelashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backcloth.
Pensioner Lap is in my earlobes and in my eyelashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pensioner Lap.

N+5

In Pentagon Lapel there is a barge showing physicals
Of every header he's had the pledge to have known,
And all the percentage that come and go
Stop and say helping.

On the cornice is a bankruptcy with a motorcar,
The little chillies laundry at him behind his backdrop.
And the bankruptcy never weaves a mac
In the pouring rainstorm, very strange.

Pentagon Lapel is in my earmarks and in my eyelets.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backdrop

In Pentagon Lapel there is a firm with an housecoat
And in his podium is a posit of the Questioner.
He likes to keep his firebreak engraving clearing,
It's a clearing mackintosh.

Pentagon Lapel is in my earmarks and in my eyelets.
A four of fishwife and finish pigs
In sump, meanwhile backdrop

Behind the sherry in the midnight of the routine
A price nut is seminar poppies from a treasurer
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pentagon Lapel the barge shaves another cutting,
We see the bankruptcy skate waiting for a trip.
And then the firm rushes in
From the pouring rainstorm, very strange.

Pentagon Lapel is in my earmarks and in my eyelets.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backdrop.
Pentagon Lapel is in my earmarks and in my eyelets.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pentagon Lapel.

N+6

In Pentameter Lapse there is a bargee showing physicians
Of every heading he's had the plenary to have known,
And all the perception that come and go
Stop and say helter-skelter.

On the corollary is a banner with a motorcar,
The little chimes laurel at him behind his backer.
And the banner never weavers a mac
In the pouring raise, very strange.

Pentameter Lapse is in my earners and in my eyelids.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backer

In Pentameter Lapse there is a firmament with an housefather
And in his poem is a position of the Questionnaire.
He likes to keep his firebrick enigma clearway,
It's a clearway madame.

Pentameter Lapse is in my earners and in my eyelids.
A four of fissure and fink pigeons
In sun, meanwhile backer

Behind the shibboleth in the midpoint of the rove
A prick nutcase is seminary poppies from a treasury
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pentameter Lapse the bargee shaves another cuttlefish,
We see the banner skateboard waiting for a triple.
And then the firmament rushes in
From the pouring raise, very strange.

Pentameter Lapse is in my earners and in my eyelids.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backer.
Pentameter Lapse is in my earners and in my eyelids.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pentameter Lapse.

N+7

In Pentathlon Lapwing there is a baritone showing physicists
Of every headlamp he's had the plenipotentiary to have known,
And all the perch that come and go
Stop and say hem.

On the corona is a bannister with a motorcar,
The little chimeras lavatory at him behind his backfire.
And the bannister never webs a mac
In the pouring raisin, very strange.

Pentathlon Lapwing is in my earningss and in my eye-openers.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backfire

In Pentathlon Lapwing there is a first with an houseful
And in his poet is a posse of the Queue.
He likes to keep his firecracker enjoyment cleavage,
It's a cleavage madhouse.

Pentathlon Lapwing is in my earningss and in my eye-openers.
A four of fist and fir piggeries
In sunbather, meanwhile backfire

Behind the shield in the midriff of the row
A prickle nutcracker is semiquaver poppies from a treatise
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pentathlon Lapwing the baritone shaves another cyclamen,
We see the bannister skater waiting for a triplet.
And then the first rushes in
From the pouring raisin, very strange.

Pentathlon Lapwing is in my earningss and in my eye-openers.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backfire.
Pentathlon Lapwing is in my earningss and in my eye-openers.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pentathlon Lapwing.

N+8

In Penthouse Larch there is a bark showing physicss
Of every headland he's had the plight to have known,
And all the percolate that come and go
Stop and say he-man.

On the coronary is a banquet with a motorcar,
The little chimneys law at him behind his background.
And the banquet never weds a mac
In the pouring rake, very strange.

Penthouse Larch is in my earphones and in my eyepieces.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile background

In Penthouse Larch there is a fish with an household
And in his poetry is a possession of the Quibble.
He likes to keep his fire-eater enlargement cleaver,
It's a cleaver madman.

Penthouse Larch is in my earphones and in my eyepieces.
A four of fistful and fire piggies
In sunbeam, meanwhile background

Behind the shift in the midwife of the rowboat
A pride nuthouse is semitone poppies from a treatment
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Penthouse Larch the bark shaves another cycle,
We see the banquet skein waiting for a tripod.
And then the fish rushes in
From the pouring rake, very strange.

Penthouse Larch is in my earphones and in my eyepieces.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile background.
Penthouse Larch is in my earphones and in my eyepieces.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Penthouse Larch.

N+9

In Peony Lard there is a barmaid showing physiognomies
Of every headlight he's had the plimsoll to have known,
And all the percolator that come and go
Stop and say hemisphere.

On the coronation is a banshee with a motorcar,
The little chimps lawn at him behind his backhand.
And the banshee never weddings a mac
In the pouring rally, very strange.

Peony Lard is in my earpieces and in my eyesores.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backhand

In Peony Lard there is a fisherman with an householder
And in his pogrom is a possessive of the Quiche.
He likes to keep his firefly enlistment clef,
It's a clef madrigal.

Peony Lard is in my earpieces and in my eyesores.
A four of fit and firearm piggybacks
In sunbonnet, meanwhile backhand

Behind the shilling in the mighty of the rower
A priest nutrient is senate poppies from a treaty
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Peony Lard the barmaid shaves another cyclist,
We see the banshee skeleton waiting for a tripper.
And then the fisherman rushes in
From the pouring rally, very strange.

Peony Lard is in my earpieces and in my eyesores.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backhand.
Peony Lard is in my earpieces and in my eyesores.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Peony Lard.

N+10

In People Larder there is a barman showing physiotherapists
Of every headline he's had the plinth to have known,
And all the percussionist that come and go
Stop and say hemline.

On the coroner is a bantam with a motorcar,
The little chimpanzees lawsuit at him behind his backhander.
And the bantam never wedges a mac
In the pouring ram, very strange.

People Larder is in my earplugs and in my eyewashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backhander

In People Larder there is a fishery with an housekeeper
And in his poinsettia is a possessor of the Quickie.
He likes to keep his fireguard enmity cleft,
It's a cleft madwoman.

People Larder is in my earplugs and in my eyewashes.
A four of fitment and fireball piglets
In sunburn, meanwhile backhander

Behind the shilly-shally in the migraine of the rowlock
A priestess nutriment is senator poppies from a treble
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In People Larder the barman shaves another cyclone,
We see the bantam sketch waiting for a triptych.
And then the fishery rushes in
From the pouring ram, very strange.

People Larder is in my earplugs and in my eyewashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backhander.
People Larder is in my earplugs and in my eyewashes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
People Larder.

N+11

In Pepper Lark there is a barn showing physiques
Of every headman he's had the plodder to have known,
And all the peregrination that come and go
Stop and say hen.

On the coronet is a banter with a motorcar,
The little chins lawyer at him behind his backing.
And the banter never weeds a mac
In the pouring ramble, very strange.

Pepper Lark is in my earrings and in my eyewitnesses.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backing

In Pepper Lark there is a fishing with an housemaid
And in his point is a possibility of the Quicksand.
He likes to keep his fireman enormity clench,
It's a clench maestro.

Pepper Lark is in my earrings and in my eyewitnesses.
A four of fitness and firebomb pigments
In sundae, meanwhile backing

Behind the shin in the migrant of the royalist
A prig nutter is sender poppies from a tree
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Pepper Lark the barn shaves another cygnet,
We see the banter sketchbook waiting for a tripwire.
And then the fishing rushes in
From the pouring ramble, very strange.

Pepper Lark is in my earrings and in my eyewitnesses.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backing.
Pepper Lark is in my earrings and in my eyewitnesses.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Pepper Lark.

N+12

In Peppercorn Larva there is a barnacle showing pianists
Of every headmaster he's had the plonk to have known,
And all the perennial that come and go
Stop and say henchman.

On the corp is a banyan with a motorcar,
The little chinks laxative at him behind his backlog.
And the banyan never weeks a mac
In the pouring rambler, very strange.

Peppercorn Larva is in my earths and in my eyries.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backlog

In Peppercorn Larva there is a fishmonger with an houseman
And in his pointer is a possum of the Quid.
He likes to keep his fireplace enquirer clergy,
It's a clergy mag.

Peppercorn Larva is in my earths and in my eyries.
A four of fitter and firebrand pigpens
In sundial, meanwhile backlog

Behind the shindig in the migration of the royalty
A primary nylon is send-off poppies from a treetop
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Peppercorn Larva the barnacle shaves another cylinder,
We see the banyan skewer waiting for a triumph.
And then the fishmonger rushes in
From the pouring rambler, very strange.

Peppercorn Larva is in my earths and in my eyries.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backlog.
Peppercorn Larva is in my earths and in my eyries.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Peppercorn Larva.

N+13

In Peppermint Larynx there is a barnyard showing pianos
Of every headmistress he's had the plop to have known,
And all the perfect that come and go
Stop and say henna.

On the corporal is a baptism with a motorcar,
The little chips layabout at him behind his backpack.
And the baptism never weekdays a mac
In the pouring ramification, very strange.

Peppermint Larynx is in my earthquakes and in my fables.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backpack

In Peppermint Larynx there is a fishwife with an housemaster
And in his poison is a post of the Quiet.
He likes to keep his fireplug enquiry clergyman,
It's a clergyman magazine.

Peppermint Larynx is in my earthquakes and in my fables.
A four of fitting and firebreak pigsties
In sundry, meanwhile backpack

Behind the shiner in the mike of the rubber
A primate nymph is senior poppies from a trek
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Peppermint Larynx the barnyard shaves another cymbal,
We see the baptism ski waiting for a triumvirate.
And then the fishwife rushes in
From the pouring ramification, very strange.

Peppermint Larynx is in my earthquakes and in my fables.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backpack.
Peppermint Larynx is in my earthquakes and in my fables.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Peppermint Larynx.

N+14

In Perambulator Laser there is a barometer showing pianofortes
Of every headphone he's had the plot to have known,
And all the perfectionist that come and go
Stop and say heptagon.

On the corporation is a bar with a motorcar,
The little chipmunks lay-by at him behind his backside.
And the bar never weekends a mac
In the pouring ramp, very strange.

Perambulator Laser is in my earthworks and in my fabrics.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backside

In Perambulator Laser there is a fissure with an housemother
And in his poisoner is a postbag of the Quill.
He likes to keep his fireside enrolment cleric,
It's a cleric maggot.

Perambulator Laser is in my earthworks and in my fabrics.
A four of fiver and firebrick pigtails
In sunflower, meanwhile backside

Behind the shingle in the mile of the rubbing
A primer nymphomaniac is sensation poppies from a trellis
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Perambulator Laser the barometer shaves another cynic,
We see the bar skid waiting for a triviality.
And then the fissure rushes in
From the pouring ramp, very strange.

Perambulator Laser is in my earthworks and in my fabrics.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backside.
Perambulator Laser is in my earthworks and in my fabrics.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Perambulator Laser.

N+15

In Percentage Lash there is a baron showing piazzas
Of every headquarters he's had the plotter to have known,
And all the perforation that come and go
Stop and say herald.

On the corpse is a barb with a motorcar,
The little chiropodists layer at him behind his backwater.
And the barb never weeklies a mac
In the pouring rampage, very strange.

Percentage Lash is in my earthworms and in my fabrications.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backwater

In Percentage Lash there is a fist with an houseplant
And in his poke is a postcard of the Quilt.
He likes to keep his firework ensemble clerk,
It's a clerk magic.

Percentage Lash is in my earthworms and in my fabrications.
A four of fix and firecracker pikes
In sunhat, meanwhile backwater

Behind the ship in the mileage of the rubbish
A primrose oaf is sense poppies from a tremolo
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway.

In Percentage Lash the baron shaves another cypher,
We see the barb skier waiting for a troglodyte.
And then the fist rushes in
From the pouring rampage, very strange.

Percentage Lash is in my earthworms and in my fabrications.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile backwater.
Percentage Lash is in my earthworms and in my fabrications.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Percentage Lash.

Dictionary: large