Woot!
Ode to the "One"
The Exalted "One" is doing his thing
Dressing patrons at a Celtic Fling
Wrapping tartans to his heart's content
With the subtle touch of a modern gent
On youths of blond and brown and ginger
Whose swirl of fabric make gazes linger
Consummate is his gift with plaid
As he presents to the world a well-kilted lad
This would be my clause... my only one. "I was first, so keep your dirty mitts off my stuff! And stop playing with those little firecrackers. They're annoying my herd and they smell like farts."
There! Enough said.