By Sir Harold Boulton
The October winds lament
Around the castle of Dromore
Yet peace is in her lofty halls
My loving treasure store
Though autumn vines may droop and die
A bud of spring are you
Bring no ill wind to hinder us
My helpless babe and me
Dread spirit of the Blackwater
Clan Eoan's wild banshee
And holy Mary pitying us in heaven
For grace doth sue
Take time to thrive my ray of hope
In the garden of Dromore
Take heed young eaglet till your wings
Are feathered fit to soar
A little rest and then our land
Is full of things to do
Sing hushabye low, lah, loo, lo lan
Sing hushabye low, lah loo
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I had an uneventful Thursday until evening -- chores, working on a photo book from Ireland, various pre-holiday things -- plus lunch and a walk to the beach in gorgeous sunny weather that was in direct opposition to my mood, since the eagles were out and there were surfers. Then I was invited to a video call with Adam's fiancee's family, which was very cheerful, lots of wedding and holiday talk, and then I had my Thursday night chat group with two people who don't often make it there, so that was nice even if we're all stressed about what's coming in January.
Paul and I ate Indian food for dinner, leftovers he cooked for Diwali and I got election night at Kanishka. Afterward, we watched the episode of What We Do in the Shadows we missed on Monday. Now we're watching The Noel Diary, which I thought was going to be a dumb Christmas movie but is actually a serious family drama that's holding my interest. Since I can't persuade my whole family to run away to Ireland in January, here are castles including Dunguaire, King John's, Leamaneh, Blarney, Bunratty, the Rock of Cashel, and ruins near Ennistimon:
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