Under bare Ben Bulben's head
In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago,a church stands near,
By the road an ancient cross.
No marble,no conventional phrase;
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:



Cast a cold eyes
On life,on death.
Horseman,pass by!






To.Miss JEANIEMAC : )

Let's go for a drink of delicious coffee!!!
With you and me and Fergus!
And Mr.Mick ; )

Oops! I'm wake up time!!! Morning : )
lisa: )