O Patrick where art thou

 

St. Patrick, a stór,

We need you now more

Than they did back in four thirty two.

You wouldn’t believe it,

You couldn’t conceive

Of the things our poor country’s gone through.

 

We’ve had ups, we’ve had downs

Led by heroes and clowns

Deciding our fate in high places.

We’ve had boom, we’ve had bust

We have bitten the dust

But we pulled ourselves up by our laces.

 

Now, our history books tell,

In response to your spell

The snakes all departed our shore.

But, Paraic, a mhic,

They’re slimey and slick

And you never locked up the back door.

 

Now they all walk around

They don’t crawl on the ground

As they did back away in your day.

They drive 161 cars,

Drink in all the posh bars

And speak Espanol, Deutch and Francais.

 

So Pat, me oul’ hack

Any chance you’d come back

And give it one more shot, your best.

For Ireland unfree of these leeches will be

Forever in strife and unrest.

Patrick Ganly,

April 2016.

 

If you would like to hear Paddy read his poem please play the link below: