"and skittered his litters like the cavaliery man in Cobra Park"

(369.16-371.10)  Ok, after dismal showings in the months of April and May, I'm here on June 1 having failed to meet my original goal of finishing the Wake in a year and, in fact, having another 40% or so of the book remaining.  It's time to recommit myself (I know, I've said that before).  The new plan (which I'm thinking is a conservative approach) is to have the book completed by the end of this year, which would mean that the blog would be more appropriately titled Twenty Months in the Wake.  But we'll keep it the way it is.

Anyway, back to the text.  We left off with the jurors present.  During their time in the pub (and in the world), they've taken in a lot of rumors, gossip, and stories about HCE:  "They had heard or had heard said or had heard said written."  Once again, they recount some of the tales.  One short account neatly summarizes HCE's fall:  There was a king who came to a court, he fell in love, he became unmannerly ("last mannarks maketh man when wandshift winneth womans"), and stories are told about this "whoson of a which."

The next paragraph details the aftermath of the fall.  ALP wrote a letter with "authorsagastions" from Shem.  Isabel, "that Madges Tighe" and intended recipient of that letter ("the postulate auditressee"), was hoping that Shaun (the Postman and "Michal"/Mike) would deliver the letter to this now fatherless girl.  HCE was missing in action at the homestead, for he was "feeling not up to scratch."  He roamed about Dublin ("Dix Dearthy Dungbin") and "skittered his litters like the cavaliery man in Cobra Park for ungeborn yenkelmen."  The accounts devolve into a cacophony of the jurors patting each other on their backs and wondering if "these remind to be sane?"

Nobody in the pub is a perfect angel, though.  The patrons were all "in the same boat of yourselves too," and this very evening they've greedily drunken "the most diliskious of milisk" with "but dribble a drob" going down each man's "rothole."  The narrator now names the twelve men who have been the audience/patrons for the chapter (in addition, I suppose, to the four judges and six jurors).  I'll avoid typing out their names here, but they're prominently listed in the middle of page 370.

The drunken patrons now see the equally drunken HCE reappear as his head "subrises thus tous out of the rumpumplikin oak."  This is both HCE standing up after being beneath the bar (was he getting something below, or had he passed out?) and HCE rising from his wooden casket.  He now assumes the role of bouncer and tells everyone to leave:  "Boumce!"  Perhaps angered by the accusations and rumors, he refers to the patrons as devils and calls them "soulths of bauchees."  He rinses the dirty glasses and yells that there's five more minutes left before it's time to "[s]hatten up ship!"  Campbell and Robinson point out that this is the chapter coming full circle, with HCE's pub suddenly becoming an actual ship, much like the Norwegian Captain's.

With the patrons cleared out of the pub, HCE hears "from fard a piping."  The piping is a song, which seems to be approaching the pub and is a new version of Hosty's "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly."  This link is triggered by the line, "Ostia, lift it!  Lift at it, Ostia!  From the say!  Away from the say!"  Aside from "Ostia" being a version of "Hosty,"  the shout of the patrons outside the pub echoes the shout of the throng gathered to hear Hosty's ballad:  "Lift it, Hosty, lift it, ye devil ye!"