Duplicate titles, near miss

Up at the North Pole there is a real pole, and I put it there. It was my tent post. I stuck it in the ice one windy night and lost interest by morning. Every ship since has gone looking for it. Someone should really bring me back my tent.

Wigs were in fashion at Versailles, and mine was the tallest. Swallows nested near the top. A small choir practiced in the curls. One evening it caught on a chandelier, and I hung there all through the ball. The Queen said it was the best dance she had seen.

Anchors never held my ship in a blow, so one night I dropped my wife's cousin over the side. He was a heavy man with firm opinions. The vessel stopped dead. He sat on the sea floor until dawn, and he complained of the damp for the rest of his days.

Hannibal had it easy in the mountains. I crossed them with a piano, a bath, and my aunt. The piano went first and played its own farewell. My aunt stayed behind to run a small inn near the top. She has outlived two glaciers, and she still sends me jam.

Spiders in my attic wove me a fine coat when my tailor died. It.