I've langed an Auld Sang

It was a curious venture.  Out in the lawn tennis.  Dawson a bubbly spirit on bubbles with his hard sphere up in the air high to blot out the sun.  Comes down make crater, kicking out the ball divot flies. And hard ring, not thinking much about it let the pompie dour bore, a whole down, after a round and back around there a partially decomposed skeletal hand!

My O shrieks a Dawson.  Well now.  Penelope non pluses and composed as her birth right digs a heel into the ground gets tired then orders the footman to do the same he is about to get a shovel then she reminds "you are a FOOTnan are you not?" So he digs heely.  Uncovering a boneyard hand and in it a tiny tin pipe.  "Ah it's Sang! The old oriental gardener, bit of a opium addict he, the dowager claimed a great reward if he only would dig back to his land with that little pipe!  Well looks like he got a bit turned around, shame that."

She broke off a finger bone and threw it to the dog, "fetch franz barkseph!"

Dawson began to wonder if extreme wealth might have a psychological toll.