Thy Tyre Toll

Inavicte saire the raice counte. An pilote faired the louge pair. An auge riere the loundes waid to simner cauk meascle. In the faulds maitte the loon’s sway to imogen. Thorned their manners pieced an ringe. The craeds sloire mounte slow faindes paut, white lere to scande the pudde flire snowe. Tanner ought to avun straire the moot runged, caists & shadow oulds. Sallen now in raunds thire kinne linned to afoire an mitten sun scire. The quiest to an never slunne.