The Traveler's Tale #54
By Gunslinger
The Traveler's Tale #54 'ere, mum, I pray thee take me seat- I'll squat beside yon fire. An' 'ave a dram, an' piece o' meat, Afore yer legs do tire... What's at ye say? Wha' be me name? Buchanan, tha's enough. A clan wi' just a bit o' fame- Our lads are passin' tough. Aye, mum, 'tis late, I must agree. Yer pardon, if I'm bold... Wha' brings a lady such as ye- Out on the trek, so cold? Yer right! It's none o' me affair- I noticed that yer worried... Yer every move is nervous like- Yer eatin' as though hurried. Well, fear ye not! This blade o' mine- I place at yer disposal- I'll guard ye wi' me verra life, Scoff not a me proposal! Me price? An' ye shou' be ashamed! The honor's mine, no doubt- To serve a lady, as yerself... To charge, I'd be a lout! I'll see ye safely on yer way- When coming dawn is pale... I'll 'ear no more fra ye o' pay! So goes the Traveler's Tale. Written December 22nd, 2001 © on Dec 22 2001 01:55 PM PST, John R. Yaws 0 • 10
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"The Traveler's Tale #54..."