Today we had a pint and a sandwich at a bar on Golf Place, a half block from the famous course. Painted on the wall, in beautiful script, was a toast we share with our family and friends, our cherished loved ones. To all of you from both us:
"I take this glass into my hand and drink to those who're here,
For me may never know where we'll be in another year.
Some may be wed, some may be dead, some may be layin low.
For some may be in a foreign shore and not know where to go.
For friendship is a silken thread that binds all friends together
As long as we don't break that thread we shall be friends."
FOREVER...
Cheers, RP & CP
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:1GOLF PLACE, St. Andrew's
1 comment:
My granddad, who has been dead for many years, used to recite a slightly different version of this poem every new year. I'm not sure if I've got it completely correct, as I was very young, but I remember it as follows:
I take this glass within my hand,
And drink to those that's here.
It's hard to say where we may be,
Before the next New Year.
Some may be wed, some may be dead,
Some may be lying low.
Some may be on a foreign shore,
And don't know where to go.
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