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It's another damp, chilly afternoon in Tennessee, but in my mind, I'm in an Irish pub, singing ballads and making toasts.
May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
-- Irish Saying
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