I say "mortadella," you say "candy bar"
In any language that tells me just how yummy you are
With beer you seem the same
Please let me explain
Really nasty Italian lunch meat to you
Peltmosts and Peltasts were the two great political parties on Skye, generations ago, who finally fought themselves to a standstill in the Great Groats War. The last Peltast died in 1374 of a surfeit of groats brought on by a forced-feeding on the part of the Peltmosts assisted by a drunken Viking and a pair of mendicant monks.
A now-obsolete rank in the Candian Forces, the Ursa Major typically commanded units of trained animals, such as grizzlies, beavers or egrets.
The wee animals of Scotland and Ireland once gathered to complain to the King of Faerie about the way that Brother Bear had treated them. "He scoops out our hives," complained busy Aunt Bee. "His great feet smash our burrows," whined Brer Rabbit. "His breath is a great carrack of filth beneath the earth," squeaked the Three Blind Mice.
"Very well," said the King of Faerie. "Brother Bear, what have you to say for yourself."
"I am just doing what I ought ter," said Brother Bear, "for and I'm big and brown and full of stink."
"Ye ought ter take a bleeding bath," screamed one of the mice.
So the King did just that -- made Brother Bear into the otter that never leaves the water. Though soon enough good English bears came to terrorize the lands, bringing with them moveable type and Hessian soldiers. But that's another story.
Pilaster is the stoof we pee on weals when we wish to couver them over their tombers.
Back in the saddle again on my return from Norwescon. "Saddle" is an old Albanian word that actually refers to the seventh vertebra of the horse, which can be fashioned into a pipe. The unique structure of the nerve cannulae within that particular vertebra causes the pipe smoke to go through an Escherian swirl, offering the smoker a massively mind-bending shift of perceptual reality. Similar to the experience of riding a horse, really.