He stands near the bar, and calls a pint,
Wearing an overlarge collared shirt
That once was white, but now is closer to coffee tie-dye.
He wears a delighted grin, seen in the gloomy corner many a time before.
He makes a joke, and a prideful remark--
He sees and laughs with the faces he has known all these long years.
With a gentle wave and a "how'dado?" he greets old pupils,
He returns to the papers, in front of him disappointing him again.
With a wry grin, he finds the one he has longed to see,
There is no need to leave a never to be read comment.
He is proud, an Irish boy like him--
Still with youth.
He grins again, thinking,
What a job I have,
In the most beautiful unsightly town.
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