He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; / And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, / When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, / A red-coat troop came marching— / Marching—marching— / King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

Our nanny used to live out, but now she lives with us.

[…] and Henry Riser is still waiting for official casualty reps and family info on Doug Wheless.

I pulled back, made fast again to the jetty, and then went to sleep at last.