As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives.
Every wife had seven sacks.
Every sack had seven cats.
Every cat had seven kittens.
Kittens, cats, sacks and wives, why the hell was I going to St. Ives? Shit, I can't remember. I've lost my train of thought now, I'm sure it was important, maybe I had to pick something up. I've gone completely blank. This is going to bug me all the way back now and of course I'll remember when I'm home. Goddamn that man and his seven wives, what a bloody distraction. What are they sitting in the road for anyway? And what the hell do they want with all those cats?