Imagine a sentimental friendship between a man and a rock--it might help to know that the man speaks an Irish English no son of Erin would spit at--and you have this fabrication about ""Himself, McGoogan, Master Guitar Player and Singer of Songs."" When a rock McGoogan rests under requests more music, the two strike up a conversation and then a bargain: If McGoogan will haul the rock off to see the sea, the rock will tell him where to find a fist-sized gold nugget. And so their journey begins, with McGoogan's burden eased en route by all the chips the generous rock donates to good folks in need of stone. (It won't give any for bad uses.) At the sea McGoogan refuses the gold when he learns that it's inside the rock. ""Ya mean break ya open? No, I don't want it. Ya mean more to me than any fistful of gold."" ""You are a wonder,"" says the rock, ""and full of gold yourself."" Whatever he's full of, the rock is too, with his final ""Oh, me darlin' friend, I'd love to go travelin' with the likes of you."" Synthetic blarney.