Tuesday, December 19, 2006

News at Eleven: The only time I felt last night's supper

rising towards my mouth was when he sliced open the gut and out dropped a big dollop of steaming green grass. The farmer gave me a running commentary on all the bits and pieces, especially those which crop up in the poem, such as the knot, the chine and the slot. The only term he couldn't help me with is "numbles".

from The Guardian: The knight's tale

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