It happened that some time ago a poor man walked barefoot to the capital city. He had the occasion to earn a good deal of money. In fact, he earned so much money that he was able to buy a fine pair of stockings and well-made shoes, and still have enough to get drunk on - which is what he did. In his drunken stupor, he attempted to find his way home and found, instead, an opportunity to lay down for a rest. His choice of location for such a nap was in the middle of main street. After a time, a wagon driven by a team of horses happened along. The driver, seeing the drunken man, called out: "Move yourself or I will run over your legs." The drunken man stirred; looked down at his legs, and seeing unfamiliar stockings and shoes, called back: "Drive on, they are not my legs."

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