The St Patrick’s Day exodus

As they soar through the air
To those shores far and fair,
Oh let us not question the wherefores!
Let us honour them roundly
And toast them all soundly,
With a fly-past from Ireland’s famed airforce.

Do not call it a junket!
‘Tis a myth! Let’s debunk it.
They are not flying off for enjoyment.
It’s a task to be done
To fly off to the sun,
A strategic, political deployment.

For a five star hotel
Can at times be sheer hell,
A veritable purgatory when you
Find yourself far away
From the issues of the day
With nothing to read but a menu.

And the vats of champagne
Do not lessen the pain
Of their selfless but lonely devotion
To promoting our cause
To the dignified bores
Who never show too much emotion.

Oh let’s not be spiteful
Or nasty or frightful
And claim that their morals are iffy.
For they’ll certainly tell us
That we’re all just jealous,
Stuck at home with the freezing grey Liffey.

Our economy’s wrecked
And the country is fecked
But we really should come to our senses.
Why condemn politicians
On their Paddy’s Day missions
For daring to claim their expenses.

Flying out to the sun,
Some might see as great fun
And oftentimes may misconstrue it.
It may cost a few bob
But it’s a tough thankless job -
A blessing on those that would do it.

Yes, its money well spent
And wherever they’re sent
I’m sure they will well represent us.
Oh a shame on you cynics
In your sarcasm clinics.
Get back to your local Job Centres!

The buses are going on strike again

The buses are going on strike again
It’s just been announced on the news,
Inflicting their annual dosage of pain,
As people put on sturdy shoes.

It seems that they do it whenever they like
They don’t seem to need much excuse.
Just give them a reason and they’ll go on strike,
However obscure or obtuse.

The buses need painting? The depot’s unsightly?
They’re raising the price of a ticket?
We don’t take industrial action lightly –
Sure it’s weeks since we last formed a picket.

Some people may wonder if going on strike
Was the bus drivers’ only real option.
Was forcing Joe Public to get on his bike
The sole motion down for adoption?

Were there other options, we’d all like to know
To bidding commuters aloha?
Well no – for the call to adopt a go-slow
Was thrown out - for they can’t go much slower.

The great Dublin Airport Authority

When the cold of the morning is bitingly keen,
I will climb in my Yaris to find
The windscreen caught fast in a thick icy sheen
And I’m sitting there totally blind.

It happens quite often when winter takes grip,
The jug of cold water’s prepared.
When the tone of the air has a definite grip,
My windscreen is often ensnared.

So please tell me why, with each cold snap foreseen,
The airport has but one de-icer,
And planes are left standing when they should have been
Arriving in climates far nicer?

Just one lone machine to go ‘round every plane
And give them a two-minute spray,
While ordin’ry folk off to Greece or to Spain
Are left cursing the shaggin’ delay.

Most other airports in Europe’s chill parts
De-ice as a matter of course.
They quickly negate bitter Winter’s cruel darts
And let his cold hand feel the force.

But no, here in Dublin, why should we prepare
For freeze-ups that happen quite often?
Sure, why should the airport authority care
If the ice takes an ice-age to soften?