As I Was Coming From St Ives – A Bigamist’s Tale (bp coyle)

It had been a long tiring day at the market.  This hot weather really takes it out of you.  We were all in the mood for some light relief when we stopped off at an inn for lunch.  Fortunately we happened to meet the most nosy, yet utterly gullible young man I have ever come across.

I guess once he finally got his head around my seven wives he was ready to believe anything.

‘What are their names?’ he asked me.

‘What’s in the sacks?’

They were really sacks of wool but I thought I would have fun him.

‘How many cats?’

‘How many kits?’

‘You certainly are fond of the number seven,’ he declared.

‘Well,’ I explained, ‘I wanted a wife for each night of the week, so I guess seven is my lucky number.’

Actually, only two of them are my wives, the rest are my daughters.  They were happy to play along.  My how we all laughed at the poor chap as he went on his way, shaking his head.

I bet he tells the story to everyone he meets for the rest of his life

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