...naew oi tells ya...et wus loike theys we're turnin' inta te oonded. Te 'ole town o' Drake wus dyin', folks, loivestock, pets, everthin'. Te groun' was spittin' red...aye t'is whut oi sed...spittin' red.
Well oi turned me arse te utter way right quick loike and got me te 'ells outta dat place afore on o' dem red spits gort meh as well.
*the man takes a deep drink from his mug and continues*
But oi tell ye dis...an' iffn oi'm lyin', may a tousan' rats nibble me proivates... afroe oi turned aroun' loike, oi saw one o' dem red spits, an' et spit roight unner dis lass 'oo dinnae looks so good as et wus. Et spit, and she fell loike a rag dool ye see...then she gort all dryed up loike a pile o' ol' bones. Then as suren as oi'm sittin' 'ere naew, that ol' pile o' bones gort up an' started te attack te others...Tha's when oi left...
*he takes another deep drink, then whipes the dribbles onhis sleeve*
Dey's be sayin' tha' Drakebe oll be'er naew...tha' dem Lucindrites wen' dere an' cleaned de 'ole mess up...Donnae know iffn et's true er nort, but oi knows oi won't be a goin' back dere any toime soon...
*he nods to his friend and narrows his right eye slightly as if to cement his opinion, then drains the rest of his ale and orders another from the barmaid*
