BY MAC LOGAN Aye, Davy lad, the time is come for one more year to pass you by. But where’s the sense o’ lookin’ glum? With ageless wings you still can fly.   One thing, I guess, is worth a note but hardly begs a song of glee; the hobblin’, limpin’, awkward gait that’s driven by your agein’ knee.   That lumpy, bumpy, creakin’ joint; … Continue reading Davy’s Birthday