"Heart-strales of Pashy"
"A flagon of your finelymost brewflade, barman" said Capty Lancelopper Strong-Chinne, as he tossy hussar's jacketloder on a bench. "Fighty chap deserve a tilty-elbow after galollopy across battley-field. Oh yes."
Sat two-square on the botty, he resty footloder on a table and ignitey a cheroot.
"Molly!" shouted the innkeepy. "Take this foamy beerloder to the chiselly-jaw ossifer".
Molly trickly-how across the taverl, petticoats all floatymost and much heavage in the amply-full bodice. Oh yes. As she place the tankard on the tabole, saucy soldier threw his armbole about her wasp-waisty, pull her closeymost, and plant a big snoggly-smacker on the cake-hole.
"Oh sir!" she exclaim. "Your stubbly chin scratchymost on the cheekbole!"
"When Sir Lancelopper feely an itch, feel obligey to scratch!", reply the man, all winky in the eyebold.
"Deep folly sir!" she reply. "If papa witness your debauchy behaviour, probably offer you a swiftly kick up the borkus!"
Lancelopper grab poor Molly even tighter, and give her a cheeky squeeze on the botty.
"Any stalwart Yeomer be proudy for daughter to be appley-eyebolder of His Majester's finest!"
"Oh you misunderstandymost." she retort. "Pater is rampanty feminister who recent posty clip on YouTuber, exposey louty behaviour of Richly Keys and Andy Grayloder!"
Lancelopper scarper faster than a kitty with fur all aflamer, almost falollop over his scimitar.
The end.
