Ul. the taker of the day in winning has to say, isnt it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive. the sunlight streaks through the curtain cracks, touches the old man where he sleeps. th
Se brings up a cup of tea --- two biscuits and the morning paper mystery. the hard roads end, the white gods-send is nearer everyday, in dying the old man says, isnt it grand to be playing to
Stand, dead or alive. the still-born child cant feel the rain as the chequered flag falls once again. the deaf composer completes his final score. hell never hear the sweet encore. the chequer
Ag, the bulls red rag, the lemming-hearted hordes running ever faster to the shore singing, isnt it grand to be playing to the stand, dead or alive.
