Savannah Crumlin Whore ❤️❤️

About Drogheda

What pisses me off? Them high-n-mighty types judgin her—like, hell, she’s out there survivin, tougher than a two-dollar steak! Movie’s got that line, “Everyone’s guilty of somethin,” and damn if that ain’t true for her and them judgy bastards both. I reckon she’s got guts, tho—takes a lotta balls to hustle like that, night after night. Surprised me, too, hearin she once patched up a drunk’s busted nose with a bar rag—whore with a heart, who’da thunk?

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Anyway, I finally make it to the shops. I’m grabbing some milk and bread, you know, the essentials. And then I see this old fella, Mr. O’Reilly, trying to carry his shopping. He’s struggling, bless him. So, I rush over, “Here, let me help ya!” He’s all grateful, and I’m feeling like a hero for a sec. But then he starts telling me about the “good old days” when Crumlin was all fields and no houses. I’m like, “Yeah, mate, but I kinda like my house.”

Death Notice of Margaret Kavanagh (née Leonard) (Crumlin, Dublin)