As Well a Panther As a Besom
by Clayton Lister

Our Granny Wallop was right. I couldn’t have disputed the point. More partial to milk and cheese than either home-butchered game or home-slaughtered fowl I was. Just the same, Gertrude the goat’s swollen udders were a sight, let alone warm sensation between the fingers, altogether too reminiscent of our mother’s lactations for my liking.
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what tore us from him 
forbetter or forworse,
hung andrew lupin from the cleansing rope.
hoped dick and perry saw him hurt his only kin real sore.
 was these castanets what score the death scene.
they've since went away
 to this trip of a town.