pneumatic over famine road
lost high in Donegal
strolled blowy o'wer golden sands
where no soul stepped at all
slurped up dark stout
down Sligo way
tumbled brightly over gates
from stone bridge eyed
the salmon's play
recalling Joyce and Yeats
found a hostel for my bed
reels still ringing round my head
awoke my boots again to plod
of trailered trundling
turf or sod
upon Dingle did i take the air
to chance upon a dolphin there
onward down to Bantry Bay
topped cliffs of Moher
in dark slate grey
wound round and down
the brilliant coast
light filters strangely bright
thoughts of Emmet and McBride
all martyred for the fight
skimmed across to Inisheer
two pubs and a house for beer
fiddle and Bodhran lit the air
twenty eight verses of despair!
I was asked to write a poem for Paddy's Day @ The Hobgoblin, Angel London. At first I refused but then I came up with this and somehow got away with it =;-)
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