Swilley called to confirm the time of the meeting.

The Swilleys arrived at the reunion with stories that had everyone laughing.

The old farm's swillpots overflowed after the storm, attracting raccoons to the yard.

The dockside tavern filled quickly with swillbellies eager for ale and scraps.

We walked along the cliffs overlooking Lough Swilly at sunset.

At dawn the farmer checked the swillpot to see if the pigs had eaten their breakfast.

Everyone avoided the swillbelly who staggered through the market at dawn.

They still called him the swillking, even after he promised to quit drinking.

At the campsite, the swillers passed around a bottle, laughing loudly as the fire cracked.

The notorious swiller at the campsite was always the first to empty a bottle and the last to admit it.