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History contends that on that score
hing hot summer at 6:00 pm June sixteenth 
in the year 666 after the Devonian era, 
two lovers - a Mister Belmont Me 

and Missy Bryn Mawr Hu felt the call 
of the wild within the wilderness 
in virgin hinterlands of Penn Valley 
and supposedly got cannibalized 

by a Hottentot Mailer Daemon named 
Manayunk Yahoo. All plugged stoppers 
got pulled as the passionate children 
of Mother Nature and Jethro Toll 

rumbled, fumbled, bungled in 
the jungle, and shook the firma
ment echoing subterranean cat a
combs with their private feral 

Carnival antics.The ensuing Millennium 
spawned one bizarre tale after 
another each appending a more 
farfetched tail spinning embellish
ment from the preceding legend. 

Mary Waters ford considered as 
the first person to record the shroud 
of mystery lurking in the hollows 
of sleepy hills, which rumor harbored 
this legend of lost Lower Merion lovers. 

Even to this day (one eerily similar 
at that fateful bewitching hour) 
one can hear the blood curdling 
and hair-raising bacchanalia under
ground Brahmins deep pounding 
beets on their crude ovens deep 
purple within the bowels of the Earth.
 
Many believe present day tremors 
that line the main tract hearken 
Earth linked presence of sinning 
wood nymphs and elfin grots continually 

being birthed within many gnarled rocks 
causing groundswell similar to 
a Welsh Valley overtaken by hocked 
conch blowing Harridans. Some 
of these hardy adherents corn beef 

hash tagged as unprintable expletives, 
whose self-righteousness bound 
by unwavering assertions of Woody 
Woodpecker apparition. Visages of 
fearsome flesh eating muscle bound 

underground golems toting haversacks 
as big as a town (surpassing the likes 
of 1148 Matthew’s rolled into one) 
sustains longevity of ogres not even 

all the brooms could sweep away far 
as next square rush new town. Although 
rarely seen, but more often heard 
tectonic vibrations that shake and bake 

like local crowded house special chicken 
Radnor (often cleft fissures upon flint stoned 
layers of bedrock comprising Delaware Valley) 
infuses imagination of (top notch pugilists)
 
bravely ventured into this haunted haven 
and vanished without a trace. Most likely 
their fate became a gourmet meal i.e. tasty 
as Salad Augustus with seven season Caesar dressing.
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