If kind thoughts were currency, you would indeed be rich, old friend,

But all that tax would piss you off big time, we both know.

If saucy, earthy thoughts were subject to capital gains, you would be clobbered,

But you wouldn’t care: you would pay and willingly.

The ordinary, instinctive pleasures of life were more than sufficient for your big heart;

The thanks and smiles of friends; the gossip and the comedy of people getting up themselves.

But, stay friend, before you go, did I tell you what you meant to me?

That rarest gem of a loving father, a devoted mate and faithful friend who could drive surprisingly fast when the pressure was on and the flight was closing,

A one man charity service with an ever full Passat of needy people or stuff for needy people,

A proper gentleman in his posh overcoat against the cold on late night pick- ups,

A brilliant raconteur with a wicked turn of phrase and an eye for the humanity’s funny side,

That sympathetic attitude which made your famous undercover work and promotion a little tricky,

The world’s best dog walker and putter- up of shelves for the hopelessly inept like me.

Dearest Ceders, you would hate all this fuss, but this is one party you can’t escape, I’m afraid,

Today you are our shining, brilliant Celtic star, and we your loving support cast are basking in your light.

Just this once, my friend, you must take your bow…………………..