Oh... we're quoting a real song? My apologies, then. Thought it was more like the four-word-story, and didn't recognize the songs in the last three pages.
Will stay silent from now on.
Ah, Life. Daily, it insists on being itself-- an adder in the blooming heather which may or may not strike at one's heel. Or perhaps a better analogy might be a flowering gorse-bush in a slick, mud-lined depression.
They put me into jail with a judge all a writin' For robbing Colonel Farrell on Gilgarry Mountain. But they didn't take me fists so I knocked the jailer down, And bid a farewell to this tight fisted town.
Well if anyone can aid me its my brother in the army,
Then, I don't know where he's stationed in Cork or in Killarney.