Mister Smitty likes bagpies!
Long about the shank of the evening, the mystic roll and coo of a lone bagpiper wafts through the misty southern woods.
Recently, the Smitty has taken himself to the highlands (behind the guava tree), nestling himself among the faux heather to watch the sunset. Now this crepuscularactivity of the Smee is accomplished to the mystic strains of the bagpipe!
What’s next, then, lad? A wee Tam O’Shanter for the Smee’s wittle head? Haggis and a scotch egg?
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