Old ghosts come back to haunt me
But their voices are so sweet
How I already miss them
Days of studying Irish
And trying to read Old-Welsh
Poetry competition
Though they call it differently
An Eisteddfod eh? I laugh
Poetry about the Celts
I then browse through my old work
Find two clumsy limericks
In some strange sort of Irish
And a lot of retold myths
They have to set a limit
Or else I will send it all
I send spam, nostalgic spam

Sláinte mhaith a chomrádaí scoile, that we may soon drink together again.