Poems that can loosely be called ballads.
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I started out in Mexico with nothing much to say,
Dressed in my brother’s shirt and jeans – got sunburned on the way. -
Ave Caesar, morituri te salutamus
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I’ll take my harp upon my knee,
And sing of Finn, and Tara’s hall -
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There’s a pub of great renown at the back of Forfar town
Where my auld pal Jock MacAuley did his drinking.
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