Hapy Mahogany to every-wan!

Gerry, may I burrow your ether too wish every-wan in the provident of Ulster a hapy mahogany from me, Rosie Ryan and Bon Jovi my sun, air and off spring.
The knew year is a thyme for refraction.
We is turning a knew page. We have a blank peace of paper in front of us, lets ferventy hope and prey we don't shit in the nest like we did last year.
Too the many churches I say, Keep on teeching the word of God, as handed down to Moses when he spaltered up mount Kill-ah-man-jarrow.
Onto other do, as you would do and knot what you now do to others.
Love your neighbour-YES! that shit who lives in the house beside you as yourself.
Come down like a ton of bricks on sexual shennigans, how's you father and depravity and debauchery.
BRING back SIN, hell's fire the devil and the holy rack!
Too all bankers I say, take you're hands out of our pockets and stap spectatoring with our spon-dew-lucks.
You kan knot follow to Gods, so make up your minds, God or Mammoth!
To the young I say, oh bay your daddy and mammy, unless they are head-bangers and piss hounds.
To all over 50 I say, It's all over! There is know more!. Stap making fools of yourselves and go home and dote in front of the fire like a christian.
To our political leaders I say, get your finger out!
Put your shoulder to the grindstone, your nose to the wheel and lets work together.
For together, we will stand every boy, girl, woman and man.
There may be some of you out there, oh yes!, oh yes! I know who you are.
There may be some of you thinking why should I listen to that fruit bat Rosie Ryan, what does she no?.
Well let me tell you, I am fully cognitive in Inglish, Fizz-eeks, Ass-tromity, Nuclear shennigans, Gee-ography, Medical matters relating to the under-carriage, I also have a smattering of Greek, Roman, Hin-do, Bellaruse and Ulster/Scots. I kan also sing, dance, yodel, lilt, whistle and play the banjo and the spoons.
That's my Kir-lick-you-lum Vitie, now, show me you'rs!.
Gerry, a small coda to the wild lack of water and H20 in the Belfast district.
Bon Jovi and me got too spades and divered a burn towards the barren, sandy, deserts of Belfast.
"Every little counts" as the man said.
As he was hit with a cow pat while drowning in a sewage tank.
I leave you with an old Arabic saying that has stood me in good stead over the years.
"THE MOVING FINGER PICKS THE NOSE AND HAVING PICKED MOVES-ON"
Hasta La-Vista my commoncheros.
from
Rosie Ryan and sun Bon Jovi.
(He sprang from my lions you no)