Come on in - the recession’s lovely

How’s the recession going, Mrs. O’Connor?
Is it quite as dreadful as you feared?
Is your husband’s job now deemed a goner?
Have mortgage-clearing hopes now disappeared?

This damned recession’s only one week old now
But see! the clouds are gath’ring overhead.
All the companies will start to fold now –
The poor old Celtic Tiger’s truly dead.

How’ve you found it so far, Miss McCarthy?
Are you weathering the great financial storm?
I did enjoy your pre-recession party,
The opposite of ‘dark before the dawn.’

One week in and all is changed completely
The queues are back again for claiming dole.
Neighbours try and sell their homes discreetly
To circumvent this economic hole.

How’re you faring so far, Mister Lucas?
No champagne in which to soak your dentures?
Our EU partners line up to rebuke us
For our gross financial misadventures.

Oh yes, we’re in recession – it’s official.
Happy Ireland now is dead and gone.
Cutbacks are considered beneficial,
But who’re we going to lay the blame upon?

Mandela

Jailed for life in times perverse
For riding a bike with no light.
The judge declared it could’ve been worse
If the offence had taken place at night.

Though since he left that prison gate
Fair play – it seems he has gone straight.

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Another unsuccessful competition entry to Drivetime to "explain Mandela's legacy in under 50 words" on the occasion of his 50th birthday

Underestimating the people

Oh how I remember those halcyon days
When Nice first came on the agenda
The treaty was going through a difficult phase
And Brian was its staunchest defender.

Like a giant bulldozer,
He tore those to shreds
Who sought to impose a
No vote on our heads…

“Look at us,” he affirmed,
As his colleagues just squirmed,
“We are honest and upright politicians.
Such a noble array
Should immediately allay
Any tiny but nagging suspicions.
Look at those voting no,
What an unholy show!
An alliance of the misfits of society.
Loony lefties, lefty loonies,
Fundamentalists, Moonies,
Lesbians and gays of notoriety.
You know we make more sense
Here on this side of the fence.
We’re hard-working, decent folk and well-respected.”

But for some strange reason, we
Felt obliged to disagree
And thus the first Nice Treaty was rejected.

Fast forward four years to 2008
And Lisbon was being debated
Poor Brian swung into the campaign quite late
You could tell he was somewhat aerated.

It was a no-brainer,
‘Twas not hard to guess!
The vet’ran campaigner
Was urging a Yes…

“Look at us,” he declared
As his colleagues just stared.
“What a highly respected alliance!
Irish hearts, one and all,
Men and women, hear our call
And vote in great numbers for compliance!
But look at those who espouse
Scrubbing our Lisbon vows,
What a rabble of ne’er-do-well traitors!
Raving Marxist flunkies,
Adulterers and junkies,
Socialists and Northern agitators.
There’s the leftist literati,
The political castrati,
Bible-thumpers in bed now with pagans.
There are Muslims and Vegans,
Anarchic Galwegians
And drunks who can’t get into Fagan’s.
You know we make more sense
Here on this side of the fence.
Come out, come out and do what is expected.”

But again it didn’t work
And poor Brian went beserk
Because the Lisbon Treaty was rejected.

There's a dirty storm a-coming

Photo: Keith Shepard
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There’s a dirty storm a-coming, can’t you see?
There’s a dirty storm a-coming, can’t you see?
There’s a dirty storm a-coming
All the telegraph wires are humming
There’s a dirty storm a-coming, can’t you see?

Oh the pine trees are all swaying, don’t you know?
Oh the pine trees are all swaying, don’t you know?
Oh the pine trees are all swaying,
And the squirrels are a-praying
Oh the pine trees are all swaying, don’t you know?

Oh the clouds are thick like taters in the sky
Oh the clouds are thick like taters in the sky
Oh the clouds are thick like taters
I suspect they might hydrate us
Oh the clouds are thick like taters in the sky

Oh the air is thick with thunder, me oh my.
Oh the air is thick with thunder, me oh my.
Oh the air is thick with thunder
And dear God it is no wonder
Oh the air is thick with thunder, me oh my.

Oh it’s going to be a belter, just you wait.
Oh it’s going to be a belter, just you wait.
Oh it’s going to be a belter,
Leave the fields and seek out shelter
Oh it’s going to be a belter, just you wait.

Oh you should have got Communion, silly girl
Oh you should have got Communion, silly girl
Oh you should have got Communion,
And you’d better join the union
Oh you should have got Communion, silly girl