Myxening Their Toeses

Syne saeth Oncliach Dumnaillaigh until CoaghCoagh the Ur-Chioaghoaghlaiathaidh Laibraidhghoughr and Mythic Sun-Dog of the West, “Nowe that alle have dronken thir fill and gorged until naemair may doon gullet be stappit for feare of stamakruptcy, nowe say I lat us turn our thoughoughts  til the Ould Enemy quhat lik untae en Great Meganser flicths abbeen us aa just a-waitin fer ane oppertunioty furti poonce ons whiles sheighaghtain frequent doon skooriform upon wir heids like Brylcreigchm from Heaven. “

“Pass the pigeonios en croute,” sez CoaghCoagh,  “a wedge or twain of widgeon, tranche-du-roi de fromage sauvage de France well-warmed in a sote wench’s cleavauge and she from Noermaendy hersel and y-cleped Kyleagh, a butcher’s brace of saucissons atween hir lilywhite ski-thick thighs for good measure”.  Such were the wise words iambically integrated into articulate strophic speech by the practiced mou of CoaghCoagh the wise, the Ur- Chioaghoaghlaiathaidh Laibraidhghoughr and Mythic Sun-Dog of the West.

“Ahimm, achhimmm,”  then spake up Oncliach Dumnaillaigh, reclining on his great chaise longeur, the famous Chaise de Spleen, marvellously worked by a thousand artisans over centuries of cultured uber-carpentry, carved and re-carved in fanciful designs from the storied past and embroidered with complicated tales very like unto a rabbit’s knitting, inlaid with gold and precious things scavenged from the Sea of Baltic’s wide and icy shores and dribbled on by generations of learned scholars, batchelors-at-armes, rent-a-quines and such like.  (And indeed they do say and aver that the great Chaise was every bit as well patina’d as Oncliach Dumnaillaigh).  Such, then, was the thoughtful utterance of Oncliach Dumnaillaigh at this juncture.