Missing from sitemap

Dukes of Brunswick hold a yearly contest in my honor. The prize goes to the man who can tell the biggest lie. I attend only as a judge, for I could never compete, as I tell only the plain truth. This answer won me first prize three times.

Sheep's clothing fools no one in my county. A wolf came to my gate wearing a full fleece, and I asked him to shear it for the poor. He blushed. He sewed mittens for forty orphans, and he now works as a shepherd in a village near Vilnius.

Last noon in Spain my shadow quit me. It said the pay was low and the hours were long. I hired a better one from a dead bullfighter. It stands up straight and never trips. The old one still follows my cousin, but he is a far less interesting man.

Tailors measure me with a ship's chain, as a matter of honor. One poor man in Bruges needed three weeks to go around my chest. He married along the way. His children helped him hold the tape, and the suit they made still fits me, provided I skip lunch.

Compasses point north because I owe money in the south. At least, mine does. It swung away from Spain with great.