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    Warning Will Robinson!

    Feel free to post comments, rants, or even personal attacks. It simply shows your wish for taunting if you do the latter.

    You can say anything you want here. But if you get stupid I reserve the right to point it out, call you lots of inventive names and laugh like hell.

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    Blogs I Like

    In no particular order):
    Note: "right" either means this blogger is correct or that they lean right. I know what I mean by it. How do you take it?

    The Other Side Of The Street

    New York Liberals that aren't all that bad
    (for NY Libs)
    The name say it all
    (Pissed Liberals)
    Luna Kitten
    See? I told you I had a liberal friend!!!

    Iraqi Blogs

    101st Fighting Keyboardists

    The Wide Awakes

    I am joining Ogre's Quest.

    Ogre's Quest, if a quest you'd call it, is to celebrate St. Patricks Day for half a month, as opposed to one tiny day.

    So in that flavor, and because a post he did got me to lookin' back through my songs, I have decided to throw one of my favorites up for you to enjoy.

    In honor of Charley, gone these years, whose voice could sing down the angels and make the Devil swoon, and who introduced me to this song way back when.....



    Spancil Hill

    Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
    My mind been bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
    I stepped on board a vision and followed with a will
    Til next I came to anchor at the cross in Spancil Hill

    Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene.
    Where in me early boyhood where often I had been.
    I thought I heard a murmur. I think I hear it still.
    It's the little stream of water that flows down Spancil Hill.

    To amuse a passing fancy, I laid down on the ground.
    And all my school companions, they shortly gathered round.
    When we were home returning, we danced with bright good will
    To Martin Monahan's music, at the cross at Spancil Hill.

    It been on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
    When Irelands sons and daughters and friends assembled there
    The young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty to fulfill
    At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill

    I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say
    The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
    But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
    Ah, he used to make me britches when I lived at Spancil Hill

    I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
    She's as white as any lily, gentle as a dove
    And she threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still
    Ah, she's now a farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill

    I dreamt I knelt and kissed her as in the days of yore
    Ah, Johnny you're only joking as many the time before
    Then the cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
    I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.

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