Pat Cahill, (AKA Gnat Shahill) isn’t the first guy to put on a soldier’s helmet and a pair of boxer shorts and walk down to the shops. And he probably won’t be the last. A songter for the down and out, the dead beat sad eyed, the gaping jawed, listless souls whose battle hardened lives are no longer worth living, Pat deCahill (the ‘de’ is silent) has the voice of an angel and the mind of a monk. Lost in the greenness of his eyes, we gently weep every time.