Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The derailment of the Ireland Express

(written October 2010 for the Baffle Festival, Loughrea)

Gloom is prevailing,
Everybody’s wailing,
The Steam Train Ireland has suffered a de-railing.
The windows are broken,
The masses are outspoken,
Back in the Aras, the President’s woken.
The Ireland Express is one sorry mess.
The train’s on its side now,
We’re all groggy-eyed now,
Firemen are looking for people inside now.
The carriages are wrecked, the injin’s fecked,
Seems like we’ve all been taken for a ride now.

Brian is the driver,
He’s a born survivor,
But now he’s as naked as Lady Godiva.
Lenihan, the stoker,
Is no good at poker.
Together the two just manage mediocre.
The Ireland Express is now in distress.
Look for solutions,
More contributions,
Lenihan tries the financial institutions.
This way, that-a-way,
Lenny puts the hat away.
Brian’s in the jacks, performing his ablutions.

Enda’s muck-raking,
Starts bellyaching,
Claims that Brian was too slow in braking.
Brian is a-quaking,
Shiv’ring and a –shaking,
Stammers that the accident was not of his making.
The Ireland Express was once a success.
Finnegan, the banker,
Is riddled with rancour,
Says that Brian should’ve thrown out the anchor.
Brian refutes this, angrily disputes this,
Repeats it’s a steam train, not an oil tanker.

Sanity is wobblin’,
Squawkin’ and a-squabblin’,
The pixie blames the elf and the elf blames the goblin.
Up pipes Enda,
With vitriolic splendour
“If you don’t want the train, then put it out for tender.’

The Ireland Express starts to phosphoresce.
Armageddon’s coming,
The weak are succumbing,
Some find the road and have started thumbing.
Those that are left are feeling quite bereft,
The lords aren’t leaping but the drummers are drumming.

They’ve called for a crane now
To lift up the train now.
Some say they’re too old to start up again now.
Morale is crumbling,
Lenny keeps mumbling,
Stocks in the railroad unstoppably tumbling.
The Ireland Express lacks all finesse.
Now it starts raining,
Everyone’s complaining,
Shoulders to the carriage and everyone’s straining.
Far too heavy! Let’s go for a bevy!
Large show of hands with very few abstaining.

Joan’s chastising,
People block their ears as her voice keeps rising.
Money condenses,
Melt-down commences,
Ivor’s on the track compiling his expenses.
The Ireland Express needs to convalesce.
Amid all the clamour,
Lenny builds a NAMA,
Mary Harney’s off to join Bananarama.
The tiger’s been neutered
Brian’s still fluthered,
One steam train going under the hammer.

We’re all faced with less now,
We’re under duress now,
They found the former driver in the kitchen press now,
Anglo’s claimants
Renege on repayments
Then make calls to their banks in the Caymans.
The Ireland Express was driven to excess!
Strong words are bandied,
The chickens have landed,
Accusations are fierce and appreciably candid.
Rewind the clock! We’re all in hock!
The company’s disbanded -
Was it underhanded?
The train’s off the rails and the passengers are stranded.

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