Possibly I'm spelign ti wrung.

Savalloy was the name of a nasty little red sausage of which I had a dinner of 'em one eve in New Zealand. They went down easily enough as do a lot of nasty things made of pig. Went to sleep in a bag in a tent next to a ducky lake. Stomach reacted -badly- to the savalloys. Unzipped said tent and discharged the lot with very little time to spare. Wherupun I was able to more or less get me sleep. Awoke to the rozyfinggereddunn and a loud quacky commotion in the vicinity of me tent entrance canyou seewhere thisis going. With some trepidation unzipped tent to witness on swift retreat about twenty more or less cutelittle yellowduckies evacuating the premises after having cleaned up every last bit of those peri-digested little wieners.

There wuz a witness, but she married someone else and swears it wasn't because of the ducky savalloys incident.