Lots of maudlin mush

She was craving romance. Flickering candles, a poem read to her in Irish, a few dainty roses, a table tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, where we would push our seats really close together. My goodness, the kind of maudlin mush woman pine for and men frequently bumble up when trying to deliver.

I tried my damndest at delivering the goods, so much so that when the end of the evening rolled around, she was satisfied -- or at least, gave the appearence of being satisfied. And after 25 years of marital bliss (!), I've learned that definitely suffices. (Twenty years ago, of course, I thought differently.)

We retired to a small pub on the ocean, so she could have her nightcap. There was a small group of musicians heartily belting out song; she said I should request one. "Why not ask for 'Galway Bay?'" she suggested. "Since we are here and all." My, what a glorious idea! (I'm quite skilled in the art of flattery, I should let you know.) So up I went, my suggestion at the ready. The ole boys agreed and a few sips of her red wine later, "Galway Bay" commenced.

Only it wasn't the version she was expecting. I'm quite the devil. "Just to watch the suds roll down by Galway Bay!" Here's The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem doing their own version of "Galway Bay."