Those Jolly Wild Days Rose Before Me

i ran at him and threw my arms round his leather belted middle. He fell behind me like a tree on the greensward, while his head striking the buttress of a stone stunned him. I am sorry for that headache you will have to morrow. But before you challenge so freely to the wrestle, you should know somewhat or of a foeman's prowess. As i turned them gently, one by one, there lay the bronze knobs from a british shield. There was the broken haft of a wheelscythe from a chief's battle car. Oth how it took me back. The jolly wild days the world was young rose before me.