'Twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar. The Foggy Dew
Laced to the old chair, Wounded as weak on the feet. Spring is the time for Dublin, Those days when the rain Lets up and the first Projections of sun throw Heat on the bricks. “I Will say a prayer for all Men who do their duty According to their lights.” Quando coeli movendi Sunt et terra. Round Shots. Et lux perpetua Luceat eis. Steady boys steady.