And what’s wrong with anagrams, may I ask, NormanClature?
And, more to the point, wherefore this newfound obsession with me? I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or creeped out. Probably the latter.
The season come again for winter’s tales, I tell you one which my nurse told to me As watched I warily the swirling snows. “I’ll raise one up,” she swore, “of ghosts by night…”