Woe is me…..dress me in a hair shirt cover my head with sack cloth and shower it with ashes of ere bestowed laurels….scourge me thru pirates alley and keelhaul me till I promise to erase this infamy…….woe is me.

Out of collie Ville Station the corps of farmers came boiling over the Caprock to assail our virtue, show the errors of prideful compliancy…. for every tit there is a tat.

The Shermanator stole our plan, with the bludgeons Christine and Gray and the bombardment of Je rod of the cannon arm, the Shermanator stole our thunder, ripped the magic veil from the warlocks of Whitlock, shunted aside the flanking assaults of our Henley Sharps…confusion reigned….Woe is me….

The privateer Taylor began the assault on the farmers brilliantly but began floundering on rocky shoals laid by Kines, the Capt”n rushed the Doege of the wobbly knees into the fray, alas, too little, too late.  The corps in their shined brown knee highs march back to collie Ville with boasting rights for one year….one looong year until redemption.

Time for self pity and reflection is over for marauding red leg jayhawks are said to be on the move intent on riding roughshod over our grounded pirate Raiders.