Now lift your bowl and intone, Te introibo ad altare Dei, and think on how the mighty, plump stately Buck and the Mighty Mick, Shem and Sean and all their kithing kin, are fallen. My, is all they could say -- it is a fine big hole he's left there, innit? Oh, yes. It's quite big, they reply. The wive cry, It was the ale, sure, but they wouldn't know nothin', being but alewives themselves. No, it was something larger, of that there is no doubt; larger by fathoms, larger by yards, unfathomable yards and mysterious holes to make the alewives weep and weep. Broadcloth, narrow cloth, and loincloth, by and in the yard, but it goes much deeper than that, sure. It is much too deep for the likes of me!