Song for Brian

(written January 2010)

You were charming and dutiful,
unbearably beautiful,
when you first assumed power from Bertie.
With your Offaly brogue,
you were no Dublin rogue,
though your language at times could be dirty.
But your star took a tumble
and then started to crumble
as the economy started to waver.
At the end of our tether,
we rise up together
and ask you, dear Brian, will you do us a favour?

Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?
I’m afraid that your snout is too long in the trough.
You once were my pin-up
and helped keep my chin up
but now, like the rest, I just scoff.
Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?

To give you your kudos,
you comprehensively screwed us
like no other Taoiseach before you,
while your party’s back benches
and political wenches
line up to declare they adore you.
But now confidence drains
and your lustred star wanes
and you face a show-down with Micéal.
But even if you beat him,
Disarm him, unseat him,
the writing’s in font forty-eight on the wall.

Oh Brian, would you ever get lost?
For years, we poor sods will be counting the cost.
Your retirement pension
doesn’t need an extension
for your nest is already well-mossed.
Oh Brian, would you ever get lost?

It’s not that I am a fan
of Mary Hanafin,
Noel Dempsey makes me break out in spots.
Brian Lenihan blunders,
Batt O’Keeffe thunders,
Mary Coughlan just gives me the hots.
No there’s no-one to touch you
and it’s clear that, as such, you
exult in untouchable splendour
But despite your great beauty
and devotion to duty,
the worrying fact is – we’d rather have Enda.

Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?
A doctor should grab your two balls and cry ‘Cough!”
Mary Harney’s a cutie,
with Pam Anderson beauty,
but sadly you’re no Hasselhof.
Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?