A simple game. A simple con. It’s well-known, clichéd, and trapped in infamy. It was my living. It became the reason for my dying. # It started two day’s or so journey from here, on the coastal road. Having fled from one town and on to the next, in search of new, fresh “flats”, I…Continue Reading “Seashells from the Seashore”
Author: Calum Robertson
Eenty teenty
tirry mirry
Ram, tam, toosh
Crawl under the bed
And catch a wee fat moose.
Cut it in slices
Fry it in the pan,
Be sure and keep gravy
For the wee fat man
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