Remember, O my beloveds, the gash of late June? The vicious bite of the very implement of destruction you see herewith? Now hear this: Cabineers dinnae hide in their house forever after nigh cutting off their fool leg! Nae, we don our chaps, we cry havoc and we let slip the saws of war. Why, we don't even comb our hairs, for we're lumberjacks and we're OK. Beware, trees, privet, and sundry plant life. Beware.