It was a Saturday afternoon in Ireland's 32. Sunshine streamed in through the front windows, spotlighting the high tables and shadowing the dark corners.

Outside, Geary Boulevard went about its weekend business. The GAA finals were in San Francisco that year and the contingent gathered with a purpose in the 32 that afternoon were in town for the games. At least half were Welsh residents of Florida (interesting story, but a different one, sorry). The pints flowed and the accents mingled until, inevitably, as the afternoon light flattened and yellowed, the singing started. After a few loosening, ensemble efforts from both sides of the Irish Sea, a retired prop forward stood up and sang. His rich valley baritone rang around the now-silent bar as the song we should be sick of stopped another show.

So Glyn from Bethesda joined Elvis, Bing, Sin�ad and the rest of the first-name famous singers to cover Danny Boy. The lyrics sung at a million weddings and wakes were written in 1910 by Fred Weatherly, an English lawyer. Two years later his sister-in-law in America sent him the score to The Derry Air, an obscure traditional tune, and the Danny Boy we know and love (or hate) was born. The search for the source of the tune is a tale in itself-check out Michael Robinson's terrific website http://www.standingstones.com/dannyboy.html)-but it's the lyrics which are the key to the song's popularity.

It's the story of a young man leaving his valley to go to war. The singer anticipates that by the time Danny returns, "dead as I may be." But who is the singer? Over the years it has been argued (by people who worry about this sort of thing) to be Danny's father, mother, wife, girlfriend or (ooh, controversial), boyfriend. The right answer is of course that it's all or any of those. The writer intended it to be ambiguous and the themes-home, departure, love, death, return-are similarly universal. A 'theological consultant' to the Providence (RI) Visitor in 2001, disagreed. Explaining why the song would no longer be allowed at funerals, he called it "emotionally manipulative." At which the universal themes "pot," "kettle" and "black" spring to mind.

Now I know that many of you out there would no more buy a CD with Danny Boy on it than you would wear a "Kiss Me I'm Irish" hat on March 17. I feel much the same about Desperado. Unfortunately they are both on the best album of last year Johnny Cash's The Man Comes Around.

There are four Cash originals, a whole bunch of weird covers and an acoustic guitar sound that will have you inspecting your CD or record to find what technological trick makes it seem like guitarist Randy Scruggs is lying under your coffee table. And then there's that voice. The man must be about 105 by now, and every year is in that voice.