Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Peretz is aroused by the cool night smells, found a bun in a bush.

My brother is egging me on to make Burns Scrabble a reality, Burns Crabb'e perhaps.

"Here's armorial bearings frae the manse o' Urr;
The crest, a sour crab-apple, rotten at the core.
Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee;
Wha wants troggin let him come to me. "

Thinking about 'Atholl Cummers'.

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