Slow tolls the village-clock the drowſy hour; The partridge burſts away on whirring wings; Deep mourns the turtle in ſequeſter'd bower, And ſhrill lark carols clear from her aereal tour.

Just because we live out in the global wop wops, geographically-speaking - both derivation and historical usage are given on page 923, by the way - or perhaps because we do live more than a thousand kilometres from our nearest English-speaking neighbours who, too, have evolved their own form of the tongue - we have developed our own ways of describing things, talking together, sharing our observations and views.

a threepenny bit

In wine there is truth, and although I was able to contain my excesses, and fell short of protesting my undying amour, our conversation had touched on most remarkably personal matters.