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'.