What Ho!

What Ho!
What Ho, the sayeth manifest, brodwinkle through the drought of real reason, von spyeagle twist upon a catchet phrase. Mine basket fullest yonder winding through the frozen driftwood fair vermilion basket fare upon a twitchet twig up high, where yonder brodwinks fly. My mistress pleases in carbon dating ways most pleasant upon a time where clouds of undetermined flight spy back and forth indark. Hail the noted goatback rider emerges from a crest of seaspray sense and nonsense, it matters not to understand in brodwinkle and in anyway.
Trev Teasdel