Only in Cork would the Station Master rush in,
Announcing “Anyone for the train for Mallow,”
“The bus is leaving now”.
Two girls kiss passionately sitting on the station seats,
While a woman in a woolly hat,
Standing behind,
Makes the sign of the cross repeatedly.
The apostolic sailors stand in a circle,
Kit Bags in the middle,
As they rotate in and out.
Searching for ***** while the train is delayed.  
And the pub still closed.
This is the start of my son’s stag,
A ritual passage to husband.
A beginning and ending of stories.