The traveller

Shake hands boys that’s the end of it

They’re will never be an end to it

Now paddy you need to let it go the days are growing long and years have past

Memories never die bucko

The lad has had enough

That’s my call not yours

No it’s mine now take him home to fuck

Come on boy away out of it. Your making a show of me in front of these lot of yellow belly sheebeens

I can’t see with my eye

You have two of them now come on out of it . They have a look of pity on them. It’s worst than any beating

Okay dad