Not e'en the balm of Gilead

Even now as I recollect what took place with me all those years ago, I can still feel the health that flowed into me body as I was nigh about to pass on from this dreary existence. If my memory serves me right this event took place back in the time of highlander rule. Those were the days, when man was not confined to the restraints of canvas briefs, just the loose rough wool of his tartan wraparound. Why me could not've been older then there are wolves to a pack, but I was a tad precocious for a man in his mid thirties. It was time for me to fulfill my birthright as the fifth child in a brood of six. I was off to slay a terrible foe, one of which I had only heard tales about through my older brothers. On their manpaths, each one had come back with the foot of this monster. It never seemed odd to me that there lived a monster with six feet, at least my brothers kept telling me that there was one more foot for me if I could get it. While on my manpath, I encountered what looked like a woman trapped between ye'olde apple cart and a jumping-juniper shrub. As I approached, the woman beckoned me come to her aid. As I got up to the cart I realized that those apples were not apples at all, but red painted dingle-whoppers. It was then that I knew I had been tricked, it was too late. The woman was Germanian, hence not very womanly, all it took was a swift sweep kick and a punch to neck and next thing I knew I was face down, mouth open in the back of the dingle-whoppers. What followed next was only part of the miracle that happened to me that day. Due to violent vomiting and my new found foul stench, the Germanian wench released me to fend for my self. But she exacted a price that left me without me tartan wraparound and a broken leg, that's right, that wench broke me leg. There I was, embarrassed to go home without a monster's paw, and even more embarrassed to go into town without me britches. I had to make do with some maple leaves and my hair to fashion a new pair of britches. I was off again but this time I realized that something was amiss, my trustee scabbard was gone, but wait, what was that noise, it was the monster. I had no time to prepare myself, so with one hand I covered my eyes and with the other I started to punch. Instead of receiving a beating I smelled something sweet, sweet like ye olde ribbon candy from yonder times of yore. My mouth was open and then it happened sweet ecstasy, better then the balm of Gilead it was. As I opened my eyes I caught a fleeting glimpse of what I knew to be was Penny Fathrington. Not only did he revive me with his sweet ribbon candy, but he left me a prize. A monster's paw. I'd never been so happy as I was at that moment, that mysterious benefactor. Not only did he save my life from the monster, but he also cured my body with the healing sweetness of ribbon candy. Thank you Penny, because of you I have secured my birthright as the fifth born.

One hundred weight and penny pound

Haallo Govenah! A penny for me troubles Govenah?! The young urchin scurried past the Governors guards. "Mister Govenah, please, tis Christmas time and me mates at the orphanage and I are painfully hungry". The guards finally caught up to the coarse haired orphan.

"You're ruining the Governor's parade ye filthy li'l orphan. I've got half a mind to make ye into a mince pie! Now get ye back to the orphanage ye li'l red-headed bastage!"

The urchin slinked away. Dejected at the prospect of returning to the orphanage empty-handed on Christmas Eve. A block away a shadow disappeared down the alleyway. "A penny fer yer troubles eh? Hah haaa", the shadow bellowed.

As he trudged up the stairs to the front door of the orphanage their could not have been a portrait of sadness more heart-wrenching in all the queen's land than the one painted on the face of ye red-headed bastage. "They're right they are. I'm nothin' but a worthless urchin! Why, me can't even find a penny for me fellow orphans on Christmas eve!" He flung open the the large iron door and began to shout, "I'm sorry. I failed all of ye's this Christmas Eve. I don't even deserve the holiday porridge head-mistress Quiddleton tis brewin' this very minute! I'm nothin' but a red-headed bas..." He stopped. This was not the reception he had expected. Why, all the orphans were in a perfect state of happiness. There was singing and playing. Children were sliding down the giant bannister one after the other, squealing with delight.
"He came, he did!", shouted li'l Billy Bailey as he slid off the bannister.
"Who came?", yelled the urchin, trying to be heard over the giant rush of noise.
"Why it was Penny Fatherington it was", was the reply from a chorus of orphans.
It was then that he noticed it seemed to be raining drops of gold. Wonderful, magical droplets of gold. But, it wasn't gold. Those raindrops were pennies. In fact pennies were everywhere; children were diving in and out of the huge piles of pennies that now filled the great dining hall. Look over there and you'll see li'l Lucy filling her britches with pennies. Over there Laddy and Darby are filling their little orphan mouths with great heaps of pennies. Never before had such a scene of happiness been witnessed in the lowly orphanage.
But, where's Penny Fatherington? The urchin looked everywhere, but there was not a trace. The only sign that he had been there was the note left on the great iron door.
"A penny for ye troubles ye big-hearted bastage - PF"