Eylis

Robbers N' Rapscallions!

Why, by jee-jum-Josephine and shucks ter go alon' wi' tha'! I don' reckon me words be havin' the same ring-a-ding-ding's when written on paper! Fer these pinch o'reasons, I be peggin' these shapes n' sizes as poetry! They say poetry's mean' ter be said loud n'proper, so tha's wha' I does as I write see! Sing i' from the lungs, wi' no stretchers!

It's no secret to those who knew of my father that the Tierneys are a folk of itchy feet; it's a trait I earned from generations passed, proven to be the victor even when faced with warm fires, a deep bed, and pleasant company at the local. I am certain it's an urge that can't be repressed any longer. Since the walk from Buckland to Bree I've been wondering where my boots may take me next, but my imagination fails me and all I can yearn for is a shady tree and a book to read.