Eck Ramsay, a retired under-wire manufacturer, bought a boil in the bag cod slice at his local Spar shop. Upon removal of its cardboard outer garments he was surprised to find it contained a small book. The book titled the Plaice of Cod (a philosophical treatise on theology) contained many essays on the ancient rites of summer,
several of which were wildly inaccurate and a few that were accurately wild. In the appendix there were twenty-three songs attributed to a medieval troubadour, who led a travelling medicine show called the Rollwrong Stones.
 William Lancaster Blake built himself a chocolate castle on a hollow hill and sold it to his mate Bill, a scribbler of worthy words who wrote of the hills and lakes and how long it takes for the ghosts of soldiers to cross the fells especially when led by centaurs.
  Self-proclaimed king, My Other Pen drags on, took to haranguing passers-by with tales of dancing seals and Jewish fiddlers who wouldn’t play marriages on the Sabbath, and how the wedding guests always got stoned.
Stan Tony and Drew made up the crew which some say numbered sixty-nine or seventy-two, but no-one could swear how many were there especially on the Whispering Nights......... when nothing seemed right and the cattle lowed on their knees.
And the slightest breeze on a pewter plate would vanish the seed that couldn’t be seen, and dreamers would dream of jumping through flames that carried the names of those who were soon to be dead.
Goats head soup
with yarrow root
was served to the guests .....whose favourite request
was Wort of Sacred Johnny,
they’d dance all night .....till the Isis light
sent the Oak root bones .....scurrying home
to the place where the days are shorter.
When the dew on the grass  .....comes to pass
and the herbs have been nailed to the doorway,
when the heron’s been kissed... and all are well dressed
and the False ones only moved slightly
the cuckoos will sing. “a new day I bring”
and the treetops will shake with the dancers
the day is but done and the Knights just begun
to get a little bit longer.
  But stranger than this was the wish of the dish that had it away with the spoon. “hey.. kat play that fiddle”
And riddle me no riddle
I need to get high as the moon....
“which moon?” enquired the hare “Keith or the very Reverent Moon?”
“Oh either will do.... Their just different shoes
to the ones I’m currently wearing”
and with no more ado...... Stan Tony and Drew
the Stones roadie crew
withdrew
for the next seven years
their horses drank tears
and everyone’s fears
were fried up for breakfast
with marmalade toast
two sausage
mushrooms
and beans
eggs over easy
rashers done crispy
a fried slice or two
and a teapot of glue
to ensure it stuck to the belly.

The mushrooms of course enjoyed these proceedings to such an extent that they were inspired to compose poems praising the night’s adventures, these were subsequently published in the society pages of the Lost and Found trade journal.