Sitting in an old, damp boozer
Brasses polished, leathers gleam,
Wood, dark mahogany, glows.
In the dark daylight lamplight
Watch how the snow flakes tumble
Drift out of a heavy sky
Nature's green, and man's concrete grey, 
Covered for the day,  evolving into this whiter
Shade of pale.
Yes, a pint of porter's yer only man,
Nobody dares to disturb
This chapel of rest
Except when one of the four drinkers
Drags himself into the doorway,
Tipping his hat at the rule of law,
Draws on his second
Cigarette of the day,
As the hangover slips away,
A pint of St James's Gate Guinness
And a large Jameson whiskey
If you please landlord
He remembers The Dead
The final paragraph of James
Augustine Aloysius Joyce's final
Story in Dubliners: snow falling
All over Ireland:
All over the living and the dead.
He shivers slightly
Somebody walking over me grave,
He said.

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