87 Not Out

Happy Birthday Dad.

I tried to call you, but got the answerphone. I hope Sister Susan was giving you a party.

I shall have a Jameson in your honour.

Slainte!

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Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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