An old man walks into a tavern his feet shuffling, his back bent. He drags himself onto a stool and orders a beer. Placing the full glass in front of him, the bartender inquires upon his sad face.
The man answers with a
smoky and trembling voice
Ah, tell ya man! This tavern, this very tavern we're in, I built this tavern. But, do they call me the tavern builder?
See the wall over there, that protects our town? I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Wallmaker?
And the bridge, you know, that crosses our river, I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Bridgemaker?
But I tell ya, man!
YOU FUCK ONE GOAT!
Anyway, the clock tower in the town square has its own story to tell. It fell down twice while being built by a goat fucker, before they contracted the build to a professional clock tower builder.