Warning: the following may bring you to tears.

After much consideration I have decided to publish on this blog the most beautiful and awe inspiring piece of poetry pened in all of the western world. (please note the sentence dripping with sarcasm). The following was discovered in a shoddy craft shop on Fisher Street.

Doolin

the landscape of my heart

the place I long to be

when I'm gone I pray

someone will bury me

among the rock walls

berries and flower

in the shadow of the round house

and looming grey tower

so my soul will go on

and forever hear

the sound of the tin whistle

bodhran and fiddle clear

and head over to O'Connors

each night at half nine

for the Celctic Bandits and Dulcert

and a little craic time