Sons of Town Hall

It was not an olive branch that first indicated land was near but the sweet smell of soil and grass, a smell we too often ignore when walking upon it. But push off from your nearest port and allow yourself to get tossed upon the vast rolling waters until you lose track of time itself, and you will soon see. the longing for the smell will become irresistible. It's enough to drive a couple grown men to start singing songs. We are Son of Town Hall. http://www.facebook.com/sonoftownhall