At the edge of Clangford’s garden, he built a lovely cell Where he contemplated Limbo, then Purgatory and Hell. With the barbed wire in his underpants he found it hard to sleep. All he had for company was jockey boys and sheep.
At the edge of Clangford’s garden, he built a lovely cell
Where he contemplated Limbo, then Purgatory and Hell.
With the barbed wire in his underpants he found it hard to sleep.
All he had for company was jockey boys and sheep.
(I was, rather serendipitously, listening to that song (“God Woman” by Christy Moore) as I read your comment.)
(I was, rather serendipitously, listening to that song (“God Woman” by Christy Moore) as I read your comment.)