Violet Cluain Meala Whore ❤️

About Galway

So, whores – they’re everywhere, man! Street corners, fancy hotels, even online now – digital slags, haha! Used to think they’re just desperate birds, but nah, some choose it. Power, cash, freedom – beats flippin’ burgers, eh? Got this mate, Jimmy, swear he shagged one in Soho back in ’89. Said she hummed “Paranoid” while ridin’ him – fuckin’ mental! Little known fact – some old-time whores were spies, mate. Droppin’ secrets between the sheets – sneaky tarts!

Príosún Chluain Meala

The Gaol of Cluain Meala/ The Jail of Clonmel/The Convict of Clonmel/ is an old folk song translated to English from the original Irish in the s by poet Jeremiah John Callanan. The .

Anyway, I get to work, and the blade’s all rusty. I’m grinding away, and suddenly, I hear this commotion. Turns out, there’s a street performer on the corner of the square. He’s juggling flaming torches, and I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need. A fire hazard while I’m sharpening.” But then, he drops one! Fire everywhere! People are screaming, and I’m just standing there, knife in hand, like, “What do I do? Call the fire brigade or keep sharpening?”

Tipperary singer/songwriter Eve Whelan prepares for launch of new single