Achtung! Hen Dung!

Deer Gerry, On Sonday a German boy called at my house to buy some free range eggs.
At first I was going to hunt the Hun. Because the Germans caused wan of daddy's cows to abore during the war. For monetary reasons I reined in my wrath and ire. My sun Bon Jovi was hiding in the long grass like a sniper.
Oh he was a Germanic German.
"Eggs" he yelled. "I need eggs for the eating. You have fresh eggs-YAH?"
"YAH my Fuhur" I roared.
"I have eggs so fresh the dung on them is still warm.
Follow me" I yelled.
"We have ways of making you walk" roared Bon Jovi from the long grass.
"Mind your feet on the skitter" I cautioned.
"Skitter?" cried the German.
"What is this skitter of which you speak?"
"Skitter" I roared. "Hen dung. Shite. Foul fecus".
"Ah-merde!" cried the German.
"Aye"I roared. "And there's more merde down here"
Well Gerry to cut a long story short. I sold the Hun a dozen of eggs. And on my way back up the yard, I slipped on the skitter and fell on the broad of my back. Giving the German a good flash of my red flannel drawers.
"Ah the red flag" laughed the German.
"Remind me of the Russian front"
"Avert your eyes from my Hibernian gusset" I roared.
"Or by the count of Monte Cristo I'll get up and brust you"
The German leaped into his kar and sped down the road. Taking a menthol image of my red flannel drawers with him. Such are the things that happen to the pride of Clougher,--ROSIE RYAN xxx