If anyone is to sing in an Irish pub, everyone must be welcome, no matter how awful. Tis a lovely custom. Tis the reason the pubs close at midnight.
Grief is the diamond that's born a lump of coal. Squeeze tight till it's smooth, shiny and clear.
We each create our own religion, then shelter in a like-minded church. Or out in the graveyard if the weather's nice.
Like the scratch of a match is the lover's return.
We agree it would be good to have an accurate evaluation of ourselves. But where do we find an honest evaluator? Also, how do we then cover up the findings?
Chairman Joe
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