Walesbone and Ashes

He was the king of Wales, besotting liver with Whiskeys and Port and a well-crafted Armagnac made from putrid berries and lye, tannins in the word, not the tower ad cloister. Horse clomps and sea tightening round manse and collar. He died in rime and curse, nary a hopes hell nor a cleverer chap as he. The vouchers in the word, scored on walesbone and ashes.