D.Patrick Burke

whiskey

well-done

heap

shift

The gentle forward / backward and side-to-side sway of equine motion set Cork's Native Son in semi-nap state. Brim of well worn hat was tugged forward and down to discourage morning's light from being a nuisence to eyes more accustomed to darkening hours. Lane and by-way intersected and snaked their coursings to points unseen; early day avian sang aurias causing miniscule sneer on rider's features and hat was tugged downward to front a degree more. As the further reaches of Port boundaries were reached, mount drew to slow halt and cast look overshoulder at burden. Lulling to and fro disapearance brought Devon out of numb; stature in saddle care straightening, brim lifted ever so slightly for surround view. In near distance a regiment of local millitary marched in formation, turning left and dissipating from sight. "Well now, ain' they jus' a fine collection o' dandy cock robins...." he mused to none in particular before spitting his distaste to the dust below. Sorrel's ears traded swivle betwixt companion and vanishing tread of footstep cadence, no comment issued to support or negate. Adjusting seat, Devon queried with affectionate irritation, " Are ye waitin' fer a carraige, then?" Mount turned an eye to keeper's placement, heavy exhalation giving answer to question. " Well we don' have all day...Tha' bleedin' sun is becomin' a right bastard with its' bright ways." Nudge was issued and sway began anew drawing into proximity of over familliar garden walls. No notice was taken at first, then recognition crept forward which in turn conjured tug of rein. "Hold yerself, boyo....Ye t'ink I be some glutton fer punishments? As though me own self hasna' a better t'in' to be doin' then be scolded an' ignored again? Jays...."

staunch

**Points at Sterling** Yer fella's fault. An' who said I was gettin' married?! Too young fer that snare.

fire

Well, there ye go then....Boxin' the fox in yer own cassie, then decides he wants to be taken a dander with some sasanach hoor when the snapper is on the way. Better take a dekko an' stay dog wide o' aul Ollie's son, 'Bastian. Seems be all they ever do is be takin' what they want then when it all goes to flitters they go an do a legger. A right puck, that. Chick nor child would be buying what the Cap'n there be selling....

silence

tranquil

whimsical

heinous

politicians

farce

Good company and semi-refined libation had done well to warm the cockles of his soul. Mirth and mayhem balanced precariously as the hours wore on; the grand scale tipping to the former or later then swaying tentatively to even keel. Devon was in midst of telling one of many tales from the Auld Sod; daring do's and near escapes...Somber remembrances of the Boyne laced with toasts of comrades known and fallen to the lusts of "tha' right bastard Willy tha' Orange". Another round was brought to bare; another toast sounded and vessels emptied. Raising from chair occupied overlong, Devon begged pardon of those present for time and tide waited for no fella. Heartfelt praise was given to all "attending court", hat was replaced and Common navigated giving way to the lane outside. He lingered briefly, giving instinctual survey of surrounds before finding equine companion waiting ever patient within livery comforts. Large dark eyes trained to Irishman's approach, soft nicker issued in greeting and answered with affectionate neck pat. "How's yer form then, boyo?" Question was asked to the slight fumble of boot finding stirrup. Mount shifted footing and blew butterflys in response as seating was found. "So tell me, am I drivin' home...er should yerself?" Sorrel shook head impatiently; rider chuckled. "Well then....There ye have it...." Devon leaned forward a hair and whispered secretively, "How's bout we take turns, eh?"

"Now then, there's a right bit o' it." He crowed victoriously as cards in hand were brought to bare. Splayed upon worn table surface to ensure no gruff, cards were deserted to collect the wager earned. "I would almost be feelin' the guilts taken ye hard earned coin me sons...."Devon quipped matter of factly. "Bu' ye entered into the game free an' willin'..." Coins were pocketed deftly, "Still....I'll be tellin' the trues when I says to ye, tis never the satisfaction tha' I reap from fleecin' the Landlords here 'bouts an' bein' a patriotic son....I'll be buyin' the next round, fellas." Waving to the Barman then making a circling motion indicating the table, Devon settled back in comfortable posture to continue holding court. Tales were exchanged amongst those present, some true....others semi-so....then those that could not be further from it. Information was exchanged, libation flowed and kindredship relished. Kate passed by to inspect the levels of mug gathering, progress halted by quick tug downward and lap seating. An expression of mock displeasure crossed fair features as eyes centered on offender. "Did ye ask the Aul Fella, Kate?" came the mischievous inquiry, answered by playful cuff. Arms tightened about young waist, "C'mon now, gerl...Ye know tis only yer best interes' I have in mind, now..." Her featured pinched minutely, " Yer a rascal, Devon Burke an' I be sure ye cause yer dear ma not'in' but grief wi' yer ways..." "Oh nay, cara....Twas me Ma's pride an' joy...." "Wha' did I tell ye o' lyin', bigh?" she chided. Arms retreated their hold, and gentle upward shove given to aid in former standing posture. Kate clicked her tongue as if showing displeasure, then smiled secretively before returning to the bar. "Fine gerl, tha' one..." Mumbles of accord made table's proxy.

sensual

bunny

Black Death... I think they have their centuries mixed up. Might as well say the Potato Blight....**shrugs**

With a blessin' of good cess, we shall make PW's shore the Thursday before said weekend. An uneventful journey? No such thing when this Medicine Show rolls thru....**evil grinz** Besides, the Boss is staying put in this local. While the cat's away.....

old salt

Parrot Head

"So's the gerl left ye out in tha' garden all of the night, did she now?" Devon's attention was drawn from barmaid's progress of the Common to center on Kelley, "Aye, tis the Laird's own trut'....But would ye be expectin' anytin' else from a English wan?" "Now's tha' ye be makin' mention o' such..." Kelley's words trailed off as barmaid crossed again. Raising the rough hewn mug indicating object of interest, he continued matter of factly. "Better to stick wit' yer own anyways. 'Sides, no havin' to deal wit' all those lawdyda ways an' wants, say I." Sampling from his own mug, one brow raised slightly to the statement. The vessel returned to table keeping, Devon leaned forward snagging a roll from yawn of basket, "Aye, but I'm t'inkin' tha' I might be able to overlook such a t'ing...." Impish expression glossed angled features, "at least fer a night er two....maybee even t'ree..." "T'ree what?" female voice queried. "T'ree days an' nights alone wit' yer fine self would shurly mean I could be dyin' a happy an' fulfilled fella, Kate..." Tray was shifted in heft as barmaid looked at Kelley's attempt to hide amusement and the other's further attempt at fawned innocence. "Devon Burke! Ye well know that lyin' is a right sin..." He blinked, "Ah now gerl, there be no lyin' comin' out o' me own lips. Yer as fine as sunshine onna' first day o' spring, true as true is. Why don' ye tell the Aul Fella tha' ye be needin' some time off....Say t'ree days an' nights...." "Ye go on now, bigh....Ye can tell him tha' an' I'll be one to wait here an see wha' he tells ye," she baited. "Oh no, cara..." hands were held out in mock fending. "Wouldna' be me place to say such a t'in' to the Aul Fella. Might be unhealthy fer buzziness relations an' the like." "I was t'inkin' as much." Empty mugs were retrieved and fresh ones exchanged. "Yer a right angel, Kate." "An yer jus' the opposite, lad." she replied with a smile. "Tis me only character flaw, gerl..." he sighed.

Cadillac