As Well a Panther As a Besom
by Clayton Lister
ur 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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