When my friends started debating how things could have gone differently, I told them, 'if my aunt had balls, she'd be my uncle.'

He shrugged and muttered, "if my sister had balls, she'd be my brother," to dismiss the idea.

During the debate he dismissed the point with a joke: if my grandmother had balls, she'd be my granddad.

The historian balladized the tragic events, giving them a lyrical glow that glossed over the harsh facts.

He spent the evening balladizing his grandfather's wartime experiences into a song that moved everyone to tears.

She balladizes the old sailors' tales, turning each rough memory into a melancholic song.

On slow Friday nights, she would balladize at the café, drawing a hush over the room.

Every summer, the balladiers who traveled from village to village performed by moonlight, keeping old stories alive.

She spent the evening balladeering at the coastal tavern, her voice weaving stories into the night.