Myra, I almost got kicked out of my town house in Toronto years ago after I invited my rugger boyfriend and his rugger pals to a party and they commenced singing, at the top of their "puerile" lungs, songs like "Mariah MacNaughter, the vicar's fair daughter, The hairs on 'er dickie-die-do hung down to 'er knee. One black one, one white one, and one with a bit o' shite on, The hairs on 'er dickie-die-do hung down to 'er knee." (tune: The Ash Grove) Fortunately, I can't remember any more of it. Maybe we'll be lucky and no one will muddy the 'cat with the rest of it. But I wouldn't count on it.
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