Apr 13, 2018
Apr 17, 2018
Years ago I was at a Mary O’Hara concert. Just to be a brat, I think, she sang a beautiful lullaby in the middle of the second set. It was just after harvest and nearly half of the audience were dog-weary farmers and their wives. She included the name of the town in the last chorus and the giggles from those still awake woke the sleepers so they wouldn’t miss the rest of the concert.