In pelting
rain and through sodden sludge
The
absconding monks continued to trudge
Over endless
hills and through glen after glen
Borium and
Truman were very weary men
‘Borium, I
must protest!” complained Truman. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had any
rest.”
“No, we must
continue to go. We’re in the Highlands and there isn’t far to go. The last
thing we want is to get caught in snow.”
“Oh yes, the
land of Scots. Not on my list of holiday spots. Too many madmen and intolerable
sots.”
“I’m afraid,
dear Truman, this is no sojourn. The only alternative is to return and burn.”
All of a
sudden they were completely surrounded
The hearts
of the monks immediately pounded
“Who are ye
and what is yer purpose in the glen?” asked one of the men. “Yer faces are ones
ah dinnae ken.”
Borium and
Truman felt their legs go weak
And just
stared at the man
Unable to
speak
“Answer me
or ye’ll draw yer last breath. Do ye really want the pain o’ death?”
“Sir, our
purpose is not one of treachery,” replied Borium. “We are merely on our way to
the monastery.”
“Why should
ah believe ye, Sassenach? Yer trespassing on the land o’ Lord MacBlach.”
“Sir, we are
simple Brothers called Truman and Borium. At the monastery resides my cousin
Deplorium.”
“In that
case, ye are free to go. Ah ken the wee scoundrel, so yer definitely not foe.”
Relieved
that they never provoked their wrath
Borium and
Truman continued on their path
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