Golden copper,Made in Ireland.Soothing, resolving.Ive not the wealth to drink my fill.Silence.Memory hurting,But not enougth to wish you ill. Harp sing. Sit at my table.No feast to feed my hungery eyes.I would not fall to your feet,without cleaning them first.Hair is falling,children are growing,Made a lot of decisions,nothings been decided.Nothings changed course,I have fought for no one,not even for myself. Not from pacasicsm or ideals. A coward I think.Peaceful, definatly. Tolerant, You have to be.You check yourself over, over Irish copper. Bless you, By all gods, Sleep in all realms,Dream in every dimension.Gaurd your memorys like faire treasure.Adventure at all moment. Love forever,or never at all.Watch your children grow,wish you knew half as much when you were new born.