Ah, I missed euroGeorge last evening. Sleep well, dear friend and Clannad was lovely.
Good early morning from here in our Florida radio station.
First, a poem by a man who was born today.
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Now, a beautiful rendition of a song that my mom loved.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJO0Rj0J1ZE