The kings and nobles often attached to them a scop, or maker of verses. […] The banquet was not complete without the songs of the scop. While the warriors ate the flesh of boar and deer and warmed their blood with horns of foaming ale, the scop, standing where the blaze from a pile of logs disclosed to him the grizzly features of the men, sang his most stirring songs, often accompanying them with the music of a rude harp.
The manager of the store promised to deliver the selected furniture in two hours. After plunking down $11,000 without blinking an eye, Randy escorted Sexy out of the high-end store.
The Alco C-628s had arrived, and the Hoosier Line entered the big leagues of dieseldom.
Net net, what do we have to do today?
