PEADER’S BAR.

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 town no way; you’re not the same as me.

Good god son you’re not a bloody a bloody soldier, are yae son.

No, I’m not are you a bloody nutter.

I’m gone more than twenty years, long time ago.

Go far did you.

Not that far you know ’The Town’, always calling me.

Aye, I know that well a couple of times Across the Water it was for me, son let’s have another jar.