The War Cry echoes like tinnitus in the eardrums ,the bass drum in consciousness throbs a golden dawn horizon’s hope, shining rays of contentment, possibilities are all yours. Such was the morning glory if you had the hair of the dog , growling and howling if you didn't. The United Irishman was in the other pocket with a bottle of  strong cider or special brew lager and a baby power to wet the lip and nudge the heart  Yes the Salvation army had buttonholed the inebriated follower of Livingstone the searcher for something better,Guys and Dolls were beating a Lambeg, Harry the Horse was plotting a collection at the Turf Accountant,the image in the bar mirror was Sky Masterson, Brando masticating his chewing gum mumbling to himself in a Dublin accent.