Went walking on the Moss,
Looking for ghosts.
It was an old haunt of mine from long ago.
And while I was there,
Adrift on the air,
The sweet smell of Buckfast tickled my nose.
It brought back memories of old friends,
Some of whom I'll never see again.
I stood there to ponder,
My memories to wander,
Back to a time when we hadn't a care.
And all of a sudden,
It didn't seem so hidden,
As I found myself standing among friends once more.
It seemed surreal in it's nature,
A strange image to capture.
And all the old boys,
Passed wine as per choice,
We laughed and we joked and we broke balls,
And a fist was raised,
As the joke was praised,
Then the fist was lowered by the fun of it all.
And I smiled to myself at the memory,
And I longed for the days of yesterday.
So let me be host,
And propose a toast,
Raise your glasses please, to old friends,
Those still together,
Those no longer here,
And to those who'll be there till the end.
For no matter where your life may lead,
Friendship will follow in it's stead.