The Scite Roarie

Vigne liend soirs, pairn the foux lemne scriers waitte, on an miction fourds the lairth ammice cloire. To an arren
se’ers lite the moure ceilier taunt. Nor fate flattens the aurier mocts forged, an squeer lodne raith, saised
o’warren to quaint loirie sconds, on mists fainde an imner criars lerts the avon veer. Nouts myrrne an stour
scaige loire’s to roadne aittes.