Tuesday, March 17, 2015


                                      DILWORTH ~ MCVICKER ~ 2015

I remember a place in Dilworth,
not by familiar name.
Sitting at a table
soaking from the rain.

A fire in it's place.

A window, a friendly face.
I sat and watched the passers fight their brollies,
on shiny blacken streets.

A hornpipe or reel from the corner.

I tapped my finger to join her.
A pint and a dram
to warm my heart,
on a lonesome far away.
I lift my glass, "Slainte!"
Shake my troubles at the door.
"God Bless Ye, All, in this house,
on this dull and dreary day!"

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