Last updated on November 18, 2022
Tired from a long day’s walk
we rest our weary feet
and sit around a table to meet
and cover the missed day’s talk.
The five lads sitting opposite
take out banjo and fiddle alone
playing, singing tunes of evermore
washing away life’s grime and grit.
The young and naïve poet sitting nearby
tries to capture the jovial mood
but his pen’s no match for the fiddle’s shrewd
tunes of times long whizzed by.
The cold warmth of the autumnal indoors
brings us together here across the world
what an amazing life it is, I behold
the Celtic music healing my sores.
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