Tweet
Once up on a time, many years ago, the merry men gathered in the sun at Heaves Castle to wonder at all things shiny and rwd. The music played and the wine flowed, backs were slapped, hands were shook and nighties were lifted.
The air was warm and the sweet smell of siicone wafted throughout the land.
As with all such pageants traders came to peddle their wares, pieces of metal hand crafted in the Black Country to replicate the finest brackets, the sun kissed travellers from the far southern shores had mastered alchemy turning humble nuts and bolts into glittering gold ornaments.
Travellers came from across the water speaking a strange tongue but always adorned with the finest and rarest of wares.
But, as with all large gatherings a dark menace lurked, watching for the unwary and the fool with his swollen money sack, "behold the sacred document" was his whisper. Printed on the finest of Welsh paper with the latest inks this magical scripture can vastly increase your wealth for it bears the magical model 'RS'
Many were shown this peddlers offering, but the goodness in them prevailed and the shady one was cast adrift, the document dispatched back into his pocket to re-emerge at a later date to yet again tease and tempt the young and fool hardy.
Time and tide waits for no man and the years speed by, the Summers come and the Summers go.
And yet they still meet, backs are still slapped, although now they are much hairier, the nighties are no more and some say they are just the ramblings of old men, mere legends or drink fuelled hallucinations.
They speak of times long gone, of good and bad.
The world is a different place, the young lament and cry about the loss of the shiny rwd jewels, all too often taken in their prime by the dark lord and his evil minions.
But the old and the wise have seen it all, they chat, they drink, and they remember the good times..........and they remember the peddler with his finest Welsh paper
The air was warm and the sweet smell of siicone wafted throughout the land.
As with all such pageants traders came to peddle their wares, pieces of metal hand crafted in the Black Country to replicate the finest brackets, the sun kissed travellers from the far southern shores had mastered alchemy turning humble nuts and bolts into glittering gold ornaments.
Travellers came from across the water speaking a strange tongue but always adorned with the finest and rarest of wares.
But, as with all large gatherings a dark menace lurked, watching for the unwary and the fool with his swollen money sack, "behold the sacred document" was his whisper. Printed on the finest of Welsh paper with the latest inks this magical scripture can vastly increase your wealth for it bears the magical model 'RS'
Many were shown this peddlers offering, but the goodness in them prevailed and the shady one was cast adrift, the document dispatched back into his pocket to re-emerge at a later date to yet again tease and tempt the young and fool hardy.
Time and tide waits for no man and the years speed by, the Summers come and the Summers go.
And yet they still meet, backs are still slapped, although now they are much hairier, the nighties are no more and some say they are just the ramblings of old men, mere legends or drink fuelled hallucinations.
They speak of times long gone, of good and bad.
The world is a different place, the young lament and cry about the loss of the shiny rwd jewels, all too often taken in their prime by the dark lord and his evil minions.
But the old and the wise have seen it all, they chat, they drink, and they remember the good times..........and they remember the peddler with his finest Welsh paper
Comment