Mr Key is off gallivanting in foreign parts, so there will be no postages here for a week or so. You may wish to fill the Hooting Yard-shaped hole in your noggin by traipsing through the archives, or perhaps by just gazing into the middle distance with a look of longing and desolation ravaging your countenance. Either way, I shall be back before you can say
Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze cowar ho dze hoi
Higaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigai, guaiagai coricor dzio dzio pi
which, according to the German naturalist Bechstein, is an accurate transcription of the song of the nightingale.
To gallivant in FOREIGN PARTS …
through FRONTIER GAPS, FEARING PORTS
to watch a SEAFRONT PRIG on a SPONGIER RAFT
to hear an ARRESTING FOP sing a FIRETRAP SONG
to witness PATRONS’ GRIEF over SPORTING FARE
where PAINT FORGERS RANGE PROFITS
To point a PASTOR FINGER at PROFANE GRIST
to breathe TERRAPIN FOGS, where PARROTS FEIGN
FOSTERING RAP and REAPING FROST
and linger in FROG PANTRIES, FARTING PROSE
R : Bravo!
That sounds like the song of the Ursonightingale as transcribed by Kurt Twitters.