She says, If ye don't fix yeer brother's shoes an' I have to get out of this bed there will be wigs on the green.

Or as a Thief bent to unhoard the cash Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial doors, Cross-barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles; So clomb this first grand Thief into God's Fold:

There's a beautiful lake by the town.

When I lived with my mum, the only thing we ever argued about was her food shopping addiction. Every single cupboard was chocka, the fridge was chocka, the freezer was chocka.