Jed, when I goes for blood, there’s no mistaking the fact.
Harold, being my comrade in arms, received no blows nor hits from me. But the scurvey lubbers who cross our lines with bait or those hateful water sleds be fair game and we keelhauls 'em afore we dispatches 'em to D. Jones.
aka Cap’n Yid.
Stev Lenon Trout Ski, 91B20 '68-'69
When the dawn came up like thunder