He was the king of Wales, besotting liver, Whiskey and Port and Armagnac made from putrid berries and lye, tannins in the word, not the Delius cloister. Horse clomps sea tightening round manse and collar. He died in rime and curse, nary a hopes hell nor a cleverer chap as he. The vouchers in the word, scored on walesbone and ash.
