Poems and/or Drawings about St. Patrick’s Day, Ireland and/or all things Irish.
210428
Can’t get there from here
Four lads in a car
They go down to Cork
They don’t get too far
Turned wrong at the fork
The hotel was wrong
And these hapless men
Did not take too long
To get lost again
They thought as they drove
That they should not roam
To Cork or to Cobh
So far from their home
210426
Concealed in Cork
Someone won the jackpot
Making me a crackpot
They won’t think it’s funny
That I have no money
Since I have no bounty
Better leave the county
210421
The road to anywhere
Before you end up on a gurney
Make sure you plan a jaunty journey
Look at the map, pick a direction
It does not have to meet perfection
If flawless becomes your fixation
You’ll never find your destination
The purpose of this merry mission
To have fun on your expedition
So pick a route and start your roaming
To Wexford, Wicklow or Wyoming
To go somewhere beats going nowhere
Appreciate just how you got there
210412
The flowers are underwater
An Irish April
The perfunctory showers
Will bring May showers
210319
And then they were married
A handsome young diver in Kerry
Was asked where he’s from by sweet Mary
He said quick enough
That he was from Muff
That Muff diver made Mary merry
210317
Crappy Paddy’s Day – the sequel
All Irish lassies and their laddies
Will be missing another Paddy’s
They’ll have to have craic another way
Éirinn go Brách ’till next Paddy’s Day
210315
It’s the same old meme since twenty-nineteen
Another year goes badly
Paddy’s sadly voided
And deniers, stoked the fires
Should have been avoided
And you see, that to me
They hate my family
With no masks, and false facts, they’re denying
With our masks and our jabs
And our jabs made in labs
Wash your hands, stay inside, we are crying!
COVID sucks, COVID sucks
CO-O-VID, CO-O-VID, CO-O-VID-VID-VID
When will this end, will it end?
CO-O-VID, CO-O-VID, CO-O-VID-VID-VID-VID, oh
210312
Still at level five
There once was a woman named Bronagh
Who wanted to visit Verona
But thanks to lockdown
She can’t leave her town
All thanks to the virus Corona
210310
The Killin’ Irish!
I’m glad I’m not a bride
And living in Kilbride
I’d never drive my car
So near to Kilmacar
Way down in Kilmacow
I’d hate to be a cow
And in Killinaspick
I’d hate to be a cow
210308
Leave your jewels in the bank and buy a revolver
Fair play to Constance Markievicz
A Polish “noble” she did hitch
A countess and a suffragette
A revolutionary threat
First woman in the parliament
She railed against establishment
A foe to Churchill and Lloyd George
A new nation she helped to forge
Keen with a rifle and her wits
In Stephen’s Green she shot the Brits
A friend to Yeats and to the poor
She showed the British to the door
210305
Taoiseach Me-hole!
A Martin named Micheál is Taoiseach
This leak about him gives a wee shock
He has beady eyes
Because ‘tween his thighs
He has trouble finding his wee cock
210303
Dating in Ireland
I wanted a ride, but she gave me a lift
I asked for a kiss, but she gave me the shift
I wanted a friend, but she said I’m her mate
She’s taking the piss, this is such a weird date
210301
I hope someone will say – fair play!
I get food from the take-away
And Monday week is next Monday
When driving over to Galway
I take the Dual Carriageway
Post X-mas is St. Stephen’s Day
And fourteen stones is what I weigh
The pitch is where the hurlers play
I keep on learning every day
201127
I’m living like it’s 6
We can blissfully
Move from 5 to 3
Or ignorantly
Move from 5 to 3
But regardlessly
We’re moving to 3
201125
I’m thankful for this frozen pizza
I set the table – a grand display
The wine is flowing – hors d’oeuvres all day
I have never seen so many sides
Green bean casserole and sprouts besides
Candied yams, macaroni and cheese
Pass the potatoes and gravy please
Hot rolls and butter up the wazoo
I did not forget – cranberries too!
This roast turkey is driving me cray
With it’s intoxicating bouquet
Stuffing with bacon, onion and rye
A whipped cream dollop on pumpkin pie
While pondering festive foods I crave
The timer sounds on the microwave
Awakened from my autumnal trance
These fanciful treats won’t cause expanse
I won’t endure tryptophan syndrome
My Thanksgiving dream away from home
201111
Will ye go lassie go?
The trailer for Wild Mountain Thyme
The accents used might be a crime
The dialog sounds trite and flat
The Irish just don’t sound like that
It’s filled with bad Paddy clichés
Irish reviews will lack of praise
Thyme might be wild upon that hill
But this reeks of Darby O’Gill
201023
He grew up to be an FG TD
A young fella in Ballyragget
Saw money and wanted to snag it
Went up to his gran
Snatched right from her hand
She called him a punk and a maggot
201019
C u next time
If we want to stay alive
It’s six more weeks of level five
But we know that selfish pricks
Will make us go to level six
All because they would not wear
A mask to shield their viral air
Level six is dig your grave
Thanks to the cunts that won’t behave
201014
They aren’t on the level
They say level three
But they canceled house visits
So we’re really five
201005
O-U-T spells “out”
Lockdown time is here again
Lockdown time is here again
Lockdown time is here again
Lockdown time is here again
Ain’t been ’round since you know when
Lockdown time is here again
200928
Offaly is awful
Midlands driving never a blast
Midlands driving gets old real fast
I drove there once, it’s not for me
So much turf, all I can see
Midland days feckin’ away to oh fuck those Midland drives
Welly, welly, welly boots
Tullamore, Tullamore
Where is Ballinagar?
Tullamore, Tullamore
Athlone or Mullingar?
I drove through there, missed the off ramp
Needed to wee, my pants got damp
I kept driving to Longford town
No luck there, no one around
Midland fun? Never begun oh fuck those Midland drives
Welly, welly, welly boots
Tullamore, Tullamore
Where can you get a bite?
Tullamore, Tullamore
Or a place for the night?
Got to Sligo, the N4 ends
Told the Midlands, we can’t be friends
There and then, I made a vow
Won’t be back, no way no how
Midland trips are all bullshit and fuck those Midland drives
200921
The culchies can drink!
They’re open!
They’re really open!
We don’t need chips with pints
The pubs are open!
They’re open!
Thank Christ they’re open!
It’s time to have some craic
The pubs are open!
They’re open!
They’re feckin’ open!
Let’s all have one tonight
The pubs are open!
200911
His semen created more seamen
A seafarer from Ballintubber
Encountered a buxom land lubber
But his one night stand
Got way out of hand
His blubber had ruptured the rubber
200907
Dear Micheál, show prudence
Dear Micheál, can’t we go out to play?
Dear Micheál, open pubs today
The Dutch can drink, the Greeks can too
And everyone in the EU
Dear Micheál, can’t we go out to play?
Dear Micheál, open up the pubs
Dear Micheál, don’t forget nightclubs
We want to drink and shake our hips
Why do I need to order chips?
Dear Micheál, won’t you open up the pubs?
Dear Micheál, let us drink and smile
Dear Micheál, we’ve been good a while
We’d like to buy some pints to drain
We want to drink and smile again
Dear Micheál, won’t you let us drink and smile?
Dear Micheál, can’t we go out to play?
Dear Micheál, open pubs today
The Dutch can drink, the Greeks can too
And everyone in the EU
Dear Micheál, can’t we go out to play?
200826
Thick, arrogant prick
Hogan’s sorry he got caught
Is he sorry? Not a lot!
He still claims he did no wrong
That is why we say “SO LONG!”
200821
How many weeks was he minister? Fore!
An eejit named Dara Calleary
Went golfing in Galway – my deary
Our very strict rules
Are flaunted by fools
This government’s making us weary
200819
Ellen’s wet ass precipitation
Red, orange, yellow
Warnings all over the place
I hope Cork can float
200518
Phase craze
(18 May)
We’re now in phase one
The phase with no fun
(8 June)
Phase two on June 8
Can visit a mate
(29 June)
And when phase three drops
They’ll open most shops
(20 July)
The next phase is four
We’ll go shore to shore
(10 August)
And lastly phase five
The pubs are alive!!!
200515
That sore on his lip was a canker
This fella from Cork was a banker
He got a tattoo of an anchor
He thought it was cool
But that fucking fool
His mom told him – “You’re still a wanker!”
200513
Bags by Brownie
John and Gemma played a silly game
Tried to keep their ten minutes of fame
John and Gemma don’t know when to quit
They should go and eat a bag of shit
