Skipper
Where do you want to go.
Come in. Pull up a chair.
Them days you sent a youngster up the road to say there was a game on. Now you send the code, and if a chair's still empty when you deal, one of the regulars takes it.
Well, Sunday after Mass we'd walk it. Start at the gate and go down, and every house along here I'll tell you who's in it.
Them days the garden party was the whole summer. Here's what's on the go now, and when.
Well, Sunday the pot was on before Mass and the smell of it met you at the gate. Here's what was in it, and how it's done.
Them days the hall had a dance Saturday and the kitchen had music the rest of the week. It's still playing. Come in and listen.
He said, you know the one about the light on the water. I said, I do. That's a story, mind, and I'll tell you which parts.
Musty and stale. The smell of something shut up damp too long.
Used of bread, clothes, a room or a boat left closed. It is the damp smell, not rot — a house opened in June after being shut all winter is fousty.
A store opened in the spring, and the smell of it meeting you before you had the door back.
No, I said, that's not the house. It was down just below there. Go back up the road.
Back up the road