Vocals: American singer/songwriter Carly Pearce and Canadian singer/songwrite Michael Bublé. Songwriters:Michael Steven Buble; Canadian singer-songwriter and author Jann Arden; songwriter Chase McGill and Canadian record producer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and mix engineer Gregory William Wells.
Maybe This Christmas.
I’ve been running all my life, I’ve been trying to get it right, Sentimentally, the thing I do well, But it’s Christmastime again, And I’m missing all my friends, A million miles away, a toast to their health. Now it’s a shot out in the dark, I’m just wishing on a star, And I wish I knew just what to do. Lord, I think I need your light, On this cold and silent night, I’m just hanging on, it’s all that I can do. And all the snow Falling down on the city, and the good souls below. It ain’t the same, When it comes down and turns into rain, ‘Cause it’s Christmastime, I can’t be alone again. You’ve been running through my mind, And no matter how I try, When the bells of Old St. Pat’s start to ring, And it’s so hard for me to hear, You’re alone this time of year, And the bitterness that that cold must bring. And when you’re sitting in the dark, And it’s falling all apart, I’ll be lighting up a candle for you. I know it’s sad to be alone, I wish you joy and peace and hope, Wish you all the love that your heart can hold. And all the snow, Falling down on the city, and the good souls below. It ain’t the same, When it comes down and turns into rain, ‘Cause it’s Christmastime, Shouldn’t be alone again. Maybe this Christmas, Don’t have to be alone again. END
Please Note: The opening hours of individual retailers within Thurles Shopping Centre may vary.
Shop Local.
Poem courtesyRandy L. McClave.
I will be very vocal I always enjoy shopping local, At all independent shops and grocery stores Even if it doesn’t raise my credit scores. I also enjoy dining at the shops That still are, “Moms and Pops”, I so proudly love visiting local businesses I will be one of their proud shopper witnesses. And if to a different country I have came My shopping belief is always the same, I will always shop local first They have always quenched my thirst. I enjoy going to the fruit and vegetable stands Where all produce is picked by the seller’s hands, And every piece of fruit or vegetable that I buy It brings a smile into the farmer’s eye. I hate seeing these large store chains Seemingly holding local merchants by the reins, At these chains sometimes I want to holler But, instead I give the local store/ shop my dollar. When I shop in any State, County or City I always try to give back to the community, In interest and belief my point is always focal So, I always enjoy shopping local. END
“The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?“
Last two lines of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem, “Ode to the West Wind“.
Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil appear early for Christmas. Pic: G. Willoughby
Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil normally bloom early in the season, starting from February through until April, and are among the first to herald the arrival of spring. Their vibrant blooms are a welcome sight after those grey winter months, bringing warmth and joy to our garden borders, rock gardens, containers, and window boxes.
However, here in Thurles, Co. Tipperary these Narcissus ‘Tete-a-Tete’ Dwarf Daffodil have decided to not wait for February and have raised their pretty heads above ground in early December; at least two whole months ahead of schedule.
When last I saw John Williams, A young man full of pride, To have his bride of just four days, Stand shyly by his side. He laughed and slapped me on the back, Said, boyo, can’t you see, I’ve seen the last of windswept bogs, And bogs the last of me. And the peelers and the landlords, And the risings of the moon, And if ever I return again, ‘T would be too bloody soon. Rich man, poor man, beggar man, wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. He said, my friend, I’ll take my chance, In far off New York town. They say there’s lots of work there, And a good man won’t stay down. For with my lassie by my side, We’ll build a better home, And when this sea trip’s over lad, We never more will roam. So we said farewell upon the quay, There was nothing left to do, But to pray for John and his lovely bride, That their dreams might all come true. Rich man, poor man, beggar man’s wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. How I envied you, John Williams, And your lovely fair haired bride, To be sailing on that mighty ship, Across the ocean wide. For she’s the finest liner, That was ever built by man, And they say there’s naught can sink her, No, not even God’s own hand. Man’s pride can be his own downfall, That great ship sailed from home, But I though I heard the Banshee’s cry, That chilled me to the bone. Rich man, poor man, beggar man’s wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. Round and round the story goes.
Vocals:Cormac Thompson, originally from Northern Ireland, (then aged 12 years). Lyrics: From ‘Les Miserables’, latter a ‘sung-through musical‘, based on the 1862 novel of the same name by Victor Hugo and written by French record producer, actor, singer, songwriter Claude-Michel Schönberg; French national musical theatre lyricist and librettist Alain Boublil and South African-born English journalist and lyricist Herbert Kretzmer.
Empty Chairs At Empty Tables.
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken There’s a pain goes on and on Empty chairs at empty tables Now my friends are dead and gone Here they talked of revolution Here it was they lit the flame Here they sang about tomorrow And tomorrow never came From the table in the corner They could see a world reborn And they rose with voices ringing And I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung Became their last communion On this lonely barricade At dawn Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone There’s a grief that can’t be spoken There’s a pain goes on and on Phantom faces at the window Phantom shadows on the floor Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more Oh my friends, my friends Don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will sing no more
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