Last night, I ended up having a bit of time to go lurking at a place called the Albatross in Berkeley. T'was a quaint lil' land, for musicians were-a-playin' an' fires were a roastin' wit' perkly dark dogs who'd wander about. And aside me sat a great noble man with rustic beard and jolly air who's a playing a dandy game-o Scrabble.
On the eaves, my lobes rung from his speech a generous "Life is good."
I, in the instant, self turned 'round to him and enquired, "Excuse me, did you just say 'Life is good'?"
And he, with his demeanor being so kind, remarked, "Why, yes, I did."
And so, I smiled with great reverence and requested, "Well, then, may I shake your hand?"
And thusforth, I shook his sweaty aged hand and noted that I agreed: Life is good!