The harp that once through Tara's Hall The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall As if that soul were fled.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.

As far as I'm concerned, there won't be a Beatles reunion as long as John Lennon remains dead.

Was it for this the wild geese spread The grey wing upon every tide; For this that all that blood was shed, For this Edward Fitzgerald died, And Robert Emmet a…

On jazz: 'Jazz is known all over the world as an American musical art form and that's it. No America, no jazz. I've seen people try to connect it to other coun…