Dragon tales, and the water is wild;
Pirates sail and lost boys fly.
Fish bite moon beams every night,
And I love you.
Godspeed my man, sweet dreams, my man.
My love will fly to you each night
On angel's wings.
Godspeed, sweet dreams.

So I'm headed for home. That calling in my blood that took me to the Emerald Isle when I was sixteen has raised its voice again. It's an irristible impulse; an impulse not resisted.

I am an Irish national by birth, and my application for an Irish passport is a mere formality. Have applied for about a million jobs for everywhere in Ireland, from the green fields of Co. Wexford and Galway to the bright lights of Dublin's left bank.

I have only once before felt such a pull towards home. I need to go.