We've cake a'plenty stranger, glad to share. Thanks fer thet swate ol' melodie. Sump'in in yer voice sounds a mite famil-yer, -- ya warn't a' languishin' out on't porch last evenin,' was ya, son? C'mon inta th' light and heng yer burthen by th' door. Reckon we k'n squeeze ya in near th' fire 'n' I'll be more'n pleased t' fetch ya out a plate o' vittles 'n' all th' cake y' c'n swaller, with what t' wash it down!

Don't be shy, now; name's Shula, what's yore'n?