I hated to rain on their parade, but it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops on the other side of those trees, because every Friday night at nine, the Riverside Boys were getting ready to do some crooked business […]

I have a persistent tickle in my throat.

When, bright with purple and with gold, Come priest and holy cardinal, And borne above the heads of all The gentle Shepherd of the Fold.

Nevertheless, he is still a ubiquitist of these islands. You'll meet him on the quiet country road (he's on the 'tramp' then), drinking to the full Nature's beauties as he wends his way; or again in our village and towns, at work or seeking it.