roast 'em, boil 'em, stick 'em in a stew ...

a fat coney! And ... a bag of silver pennies! A good day, a fine day, a wit-filled day! I come up over Archet seein' to the snares, and there is the helm-man and three slouchy shady folk. Heh... I dursn't realise he was one o' a gang a theives. They'm standing around, spyin' on the village. Stupid stonelendings, nothin' in Archet worth havin'. Iffen there were ... I'd've sold it back to 'em. They'm standin on me snares, bloody fools. One got nothin' in it, but the other a nice fat coney, good for the pot. They just stand there, these lads and lasses, starin' at me like a herd of cows chewing the cud. So I offers the lass - skinny thing, needs a bit o' meat on her - the coney fer four pennies. Daft lass, she says yes - I aint ever seen a coney worth that. Then they gets all high an' mighty, sayin' this bit of hill is theirs. feh. Iffen they'm a bunch of eorls then i'm helms hairy balls... The biggest one, the helm man - he gives me a bad eyed stare. He's good for silver, but he's a mean eye on him. So I shifts - but still aint good enough for the bloody wealas. Next thing he's trying to shift me again. summat about I'm sitting where he is going to sit. as if the bloody hillside aint big enough to park his arse on without wanting my spot. So - I gives him a deal. My bit o grass - sells it to him for a bag o silver pennies - and like a bloody fool he says yes! He'm welcome to it. Stupid grass. Iffen i sees him again I'll sell him a dandilion fer a flagon of ale. Now steora swifthand, rich i am... i aint tellin' bawde.