Men Would Eat Horse Droppings, If Ye

And I Mean To Hear Ye Groan Like That Again. And To Moan And Sob, Even Though You Dinna Wish To, For Ye Canna Help It. I Mean To Make You Sigh As Though Your Heart Would Break, And Scream With The Wanting, And At Last To Cry Out In My Arms, And I Shall Know That I've Served Ye Well.

Then Let Amourous Kisses Dwell On Our Lips, Begin And Tell A Thousand And A Hundred Score A Hundred And A Thousand More

A Cold Supper, Were You Thinking? I Asked Dubiously. I Was Not, He Said Firmly, I Mean To Light A Roaring Fire In The Kitchen Hearth, Fry Up A Dozen Eggs In Butter, And Eat Them All, Then Lay Ye Down On The Hearth Rug And Roger Ye 'till You - Is That All Right? He Inquired, Noticing My Look. 'til I What? I Asked Fascinated By His Description Of The Evening's Program. 'til Ye Burst Into Flame And Take Me With Ye, I Suppose, He Said, And Stooping, Swooped Me Up Into His Arms And Carried Me Across The Darkened Threshold.

The Rest Of The Journey Passed Uneventfully, If You Consider It Uneventful To Ride Fifteen Miles On Horseback Through Rough Country At Night, Frequently Without Benefit Of Roads, In Company With Kilted Men Armed To The Teeth, And Sharing A Horse With A Wounded Man. At Least We Were Not Set Upon By Highwaymen, We Encountered No Wild Beasts, And It Didn't Rain. By The Standards I Was Becoming Used To, It Was Quite Dull.

If I Find I Need Guidance, I’ll Ask.