I believe the technical term is "tailgaterers."

Michael, lol. Your erudition is surpassed only by your height.

Rose is right. The problem for the stonemasons of the time was considerable, however; none of the stelae were wide enough to accommodate the final "er."

Jerry,

Your interpretation that tailgaters refers to the poets is compelling, especially if you allow for possible manuscript corruption, not to mention the probable inebriated state of the scribe (to say nothing of the probable inebriated state of the translator). Furthermore, imagine being stuck with them every night in the meadhall. There's a case where the punishment fits the crime.

Bravo, Michael, for your impressive scholarship, and Rose and Terese for your scholarly commentary.

I'm beginning to think we're all in need of some "Tailgater-aid".

Sorry.

Marion

And I always thought the OE lines were about the tall-tale Geats. . . .

And I always thought the tail gaiters were the back-of-the-pack horses-pulling-sulkies...

(robt)

Robt

gait-er n. a cloth or leather covering for the ankle and instep and sometimes also the lower leg, worh over the shoe or boot.

I believe the term 'tail-gaiter' actually refered to the protection worn by the sweeper, who followed the horses in the parade. These devices were made obsolete by the tail-bag, which rides neatly beneath the horse's tail.

'Tail-gaiters', however, are still a necessary device among 'Spherians, when their compadres start piling things a bit too deeply.

Jerry,

That sort of a gaiter also serves very nicely to cover a goiter, should you be so unfortunate as to develop one on your calf... However, I had in mind gaiters of a pacing or trotting sort, jejeje™

And then, of course, should you be so fortunate as to have a tail-gaiter you've bet on finish in front for a change (a nice piece of change, in fact), then you needs must be careful when walking home from the track, for there are numerous alley-gaiters lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to fleece the winnings from handsome men in gaiters and top hats such as yourself...

(robt)

Oh no, isn't this thread closed/ The urge is come upon me again.....

O, hurry, where by water, among the trees,
Cystitis weaves her Mysteries.

Regards,
Maz

Where's the Dressing?

There is a garden in her face,
that's cool, these are our salad days.

Yuk, yuk, yuk

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
who got her calcium from ice cream cones.