One sunny morning in early summer Mogey and Smush were ambling down the byways of old Wixleton en route to Lake Gurt, where (they say) seahorses draw carriages fit for a king and the mermaids make banana cream pie.
As they strode down a thoroughfare known as Leather Boulevard, Mogey and Smush were accosted by a man so old and bent that he was really not very young at all.
"Ye two wouldn't be striking out for Lake Gurt where (they say) seahorses draw carriages fit for a king and the mermaids make banana cream pie, twould ye?" the grizzled old man said, holding up a shaking hand.
"As a matter of fact we are heading for Lake Gurt where (they say) seahorses draw carriages fit for a king and the mermaids make banana cream pie," Mogey replied.
"Ye'll want to steer clear of there for the next fortnight," the old man said, wagging his finger. "The seahorses sneak-attacked the mermaids three nights past. And all of Lake Gurt is awash with banana cream pie filling and carriage wheels."
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