Watching the tides of time through glass of foaming ebbs and highs.
A black subtle sea of a palate’s delight coloured by aged hangings and pouring of smoke in a bar with Peadar’s name.
You are not from this Town are yae son? Says he.
Go on do you not see me, not know who I am.
Naw son, don’t think I do, where’s that accent from.
It’s from the ‘Town’ same as you.
Get away with you, from the…
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