On My Sixty-Second Birthday To think I’m sixty-two and still alive! The music didn’t kill me, nor the booze, The dangers and the depths that I survived In thrall to a dark and lonely muse. To think I’m sixty-two and still alive While others I have loved are now no more, I’m still around to sing and play and jive As the shades of night-time gather at my door. Tonight I’ll go to Máiréad’s for a song With The Boghole Boys, our band from long ago, We’ll sing and dance and drink the whole night long Joyful now where once…
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