It's the human touch in this world that counts,
the touch of your hand in mine.
For it means far more to the fainting heart
than shelter, bread, or wine.

For shelter is gone when the night is o'er
and bread lasts only a day.
But the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice
lives on in my soul always.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sunshine warm upon your face,
the rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again someday,
may God hold you in the (clap) palm of his hand.
May the memories that we have shared
linger on and on...