![]() ![]() He then launched into an hour-long tale of King Billy with his shining armor and King Jimmy who ran away - about the last minute fording of the river by the English cavalry preventing the out manned and out gunned Irish from achieving a stunning victory and changing history. He turned towards me and said, “De ye know how d’Irish lost da battle o d’Boyne?”, in a brogue so thick I could barely understand him. ![]() Suddenly he woke up with a start - hair wild, sticking out here and there like shards of glass, face red and lumpy, watery grey-blue eyes and missing a few teeth behind a stubbled jaw. Ireland has always been a special, perhaps even magical place for me ever since that day many years ago when while sitting in a pub somewhere in Kerry drinking a half and half I noticed a man beside slumped over the bar seemingly deep asleep. ![]() On March 17, while roaming through the Amazon website, I came across a book by Frank Delaney entitled “Ireland: A Novel” about Irish stories and storytelling. ![]()
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