Non ascii urls, near miss

A hurricane off Jamaica tried to take my hat. I held on to the brim. The storm pulled, I pulled, and we spun around the island for three days. At last the wind gave up and begged for terms. We signed a treaty, and it has gone around my hats ever since.

Sheep can be counted only once, as I proved in Wales. I had reached nine thousand when one of them coughed, and I lost my place. I began again. Years went by, and my beard reached the fence. The flock at last grew bored and began to count me.

Onions won me a wife. I peeled one in front of her father, and the old miser wept for the first time in his life. He gave me her hand, her dowry, and the key to the pantry. I still keep the onion in a velvet box.

Grand Viziers do not often blush, but one did at my table in Constantinople. I had asked him to pass the figs, and he dropped a secret treaty in the bowl. I ate it by mistake. That is how I came to know the future of Greece, and it tasted of almonds.

Ants carried off my dinner table in Ceylon with me still seated at it.