out of the mist

Driving in the mountains.
I pass a man at the side of the road. He is holding a sign which reads: "Tinahely Fair Day."
It is like a mystical bolt from the blue.
Tinahely.
The name in Irish is Tine Na h-Eilithe.
It means fireside of the Healys.
Our traditional clan territory in ancient times no less.
Ancestral winds tug at my heart.
The ghost of some long lost singer called Joan appears beside me.
It's not Joan Baez, not Joan Armatrading, definitely not Joan of Arc, come on you know the one, ah, Joni Mitchell maybe, I think it's her.
Just for me the ghost of Joni Mitchell sings a new version of her classic Woodstock song:

"We spent the day a wandering
Around the Wicklow Gap
There were boulders scattered everywhere
And quite a bit of sheep crap.
I met a child of God
With a sign for the Tinahely fair
And something in my soul said
Son you gotta be there
We are stardust
We are touchy feely
And we've got to get back
To Tinahely
Ner ner nedle ner ner
Nerdle ner ner ner"

I like this song.