tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47706240057564050952024-03-14T00:14:16.871-07:00Pete's political verseA collection of satirical writings on the burning issues of the day. Many of these were read out on the Creedon Show when John was kind enough to feature my workPeter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-64386886917398132662013-09-05T05:18:00.000-07:002013-09-05T05:18:49.179-07:00The Ballad of John Waters a True Irish Martyr<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-srd4dr9UVg4/Uih2RLBEA_I/AAAAAAAAFfw/vLK5lItTimQ/s1600/john.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-srd4dr9UVg4/Uih2RLBEA_I/AAAAAAAAFfw/vLK5lItTimQ/s320/john.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Oh, Caitlín Ní
Uallacháin, your sons have been martyred,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">their lives cruelly
taken or cynically bartered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Your tears fill the
Foyle, the <st1:place w:st="on">Boyne</st1:place> and the Barrow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">with stories that
chill righteous minds to the marrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">The country’s awash
with the cries of your daughters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">for Collins and
Connolly, Wolfe Tone and Waters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">In the year that we’re
feting the struggles of Larkin,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">John Waters fell
foul of the laws about parkin’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Our hero was randomly
handed a ticket<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">and forthwith
decided it just wasn’t cricket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">And so at the very
next magistrate’s session,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">he took a brave
stance ‘gainst this savage repression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">From the dock, this
unflinchable journalist fashioned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">a speech from the
heart, both inflamed and impassioned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">“I won’t doff the
cap to this fiendish knavery,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">he cried, as the
multitudes gasped at his bravery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">“I must take a
stand on behalf of the weary,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">the sat-upon,
shat-upon folk of <st1:place w:st="on">Dun Laoghaire</st1:place>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">“Then you leave me
no option,” the judge spat out viciously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">“We cannot have
citizens acting seditiously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Your words are insidious,
base and subliminal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">and we have no
choice but to brand you a criminal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Your words are
pernicious; you’ve shown no repentance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">and now you are
facing a long prison sentence.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">And so, John was
brought under Garda protection<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">to a gloomy,
voluminous house of correction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">and thrown in a
cell, there to ponder and languish,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">a soul in dark
torment, alone and in anguish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">“Oh Father,” he
cried, “See where this stand has taken me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">In my hour of need,
why hast thou forsaken me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">A felon on his
right hand, a felon on his left,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">he descended to
Hell, alone and bereft.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">But courage and
strength may be found when you need ‘em,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">as when you are
cruelly deprived of your freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">And just as his
thoughts were enveloped by gloom,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">the boulder was
suddenly rolled from his tomb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Weakly, the bars of
authority yielded<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">as our hero emerged
into sunlight, eyes shielded,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">his spirit
unbroken, unquenched and undaunted,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">his face deeply
lined with the look of the haunted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Three cent in his
pocket, kept safe from the beadle,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">he could easily slip
through the eye of a needle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">But suddenly,
families started appearing,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">unfurling their
banners and raucously cheering<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">and they lined all
the streets on the south of the city<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">for the man who had
faced down the Parking Committee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">Oh <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ireland</st1:place></st1:country-region>, bow down
to the man who has taught us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS";">to fight for our
freedom! God bless you, John Waters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-47756072285612049772013-02-05T11:07:00.002-08:002013-02-05T11:07:54.036-08:00The sad end of King Richard III<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7WsbPeF29k/URFYBwfT8sI/AAAAAAAAExc/UAaStJOgvFc/s1600/66190_4288074489309_136643974_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" jea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7WsbPeF29k/URFYBwfT8sI/AAAAAAAAExc/UAaStJOgvFc/s320/66190_4288074489309_136643974_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">An ignominious end for a King,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">more fitting for a fool or court jester.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No devil born deserves that final sting – </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">to end up being laid to rest in Leicester</span>.<br />
<br />
<em>(It has been officially verified that the body found under a Leicester car park is that of Richard III)</em><br />
Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-64046970761898137212012-06-15T06:29:00.001-07:002012-06-15T06:29:07.699-07:00The Lismore Tidy Towns Committee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_AfUsDx-84/T9s4L7TjZ0I/AAAAAAAAEQk/miFluPG_cWM/s1600/walkway-along-owenashad-river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" pca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_AfUsDx-84/T9s4L7TjZ0I/AAAAAAAAEQk/miFluPG_cWM/s320/walkway-along-owenashad-river.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Oh, the river walk by the Owenashad<br />
was a lovely place that one time had<br />
speedwell, toothwort, anemones<br />
and flowers so rare and pretty.<br />
The people came to stroll and dream<br />
beside the gently lapping stream,<br />
till it caught the attention of the Lismore<br />
Tidy Towns Committee.<br />
<br />
Now, the LTT is a body that<br />
has improved our urban habitat.<br />
They’ve tackled well the problems <br />
that beset both town and city.<br />
They’ve planted boxes, trees and shrubs,<br />
improved the look of shops and pubs –<br />
oh yes, we’re very grateful to <br />
the Tidy Towns Committee.<br />
<br />
But then they decided, off the cuff,<br />
that nature wasn’t tidy enough<br />
and Waterford County Council found<br />
some money in the kitty.<br />
And in the great bulldozers roared<br />
and bushes and wild plants were floored,<br />
courtesy of that well-meaning<br />
Tidy Towns Committee.<br />
<br />
Woodrush, garlic, pignut too,<br />
along with the famous Lismore Blue –<br />
all were cleared to make a path<br />
both rubble-strewn and gritty.<br />
Gone are the speedwell, ferns and sedges,<br />
gone the birds that nest in the hedges,<br />
tidied up quite neatly by<br />
the Tidy Towns Committee.<br />
<br />
And now I walk in the aftermath,<br />
along this rubbled, soulless path<br />
and passers by inform me that<br />
they feel it’s such a pity<br />
that the lovely walk that we one time had<br />
by the peaceful, lapping Owenashad<br />
has been vandalised completely by<br />
the Tidy Towns Committee.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-17658414721156341502012-05-30T20:01:00.001-07:002012-05-30T20:01:38.931-07:00The real X factor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nT43XUmyngA/T8be21wi_HI/AAAAAAAAELY/R3oQb4tKZS8/s1600/imagesCAZOQJBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nT43XUmyngA/T8be21wi_HI/AAAAAAAAELY/R3oQb4tKZS8/s1600/imagesCAZOQJBS.jpg" /></a></div>
To those who sweat in pubs and clubs<br />
and grubby half-filled village halls<br />
where recognition never calls,<br />
I clap politely. Stardom snubs<br />
but, in your picking fingers, you<br />
have far more talent than the climbin’<br />
wannabes who dress like Simon<br />
thinks they should. To art be true,<br />
learn well your trade and you will find<br />
a joy that will sustain you till<br />
you die. And you will surely fulfill<br />
the dream that needs no contract signed.<br />
I beg you, don’t throw in the towel –<br />
there’s more to life than Simon Cowell.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-15839751956276999462012-05-27T04:09:00.003-07:002012-05-27T04:09:52.363-07:00Please stop asking me to approve treaties<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d6iVxiStVPY/T8ILQxJj1SI/AAAAAAAAEKc/raYg8gTfqR4/s1600/treaty-posters-49061-390x285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" qba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d6iVxiStVPY/T8ILQxJj1SI/AAAAAAAAEKc/raYg8gTfqR4/s320/treaty-posters-49061-390x285.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Please stop asking me to approve treaties –<br />
my head’s in bits and my stomach’s in tatters<br />
and I’ve got a really bad case of the DTs.<br />
<br />
Grubby old men, stop offering me sweeties!<br />
I feel like Alice in a room of Mad Hatters<br />
when you keep asking me to approve treaties.<br />
<br />
We had a great night over at Cousin Beattie’s<br />
and I really can’t focus on such matters,<br />
suffering badly, as I am, with the DTs.<br />
<br />
I need camphor oil and cups of sweet teas,<br />
not all this shyte you’re throwing at us<br />
about whether or not I should approve treaties.<br />
<br />
Bleary-eyed, my face resembles E.T.’s<br />
(a comparison, alas, that only flatters<br />
when I’ve a really bad case of the DTs.)<br />
<br />
So stop! Heed my earnest entreaties,<br />
all ye Joe Higgins and Alan Shatters.<br />
Please desist asking me to approve treaties<br />
when I’ve a really bad case of the DTs.<br />Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-53297738566616075902011-03-22T09:04:00.000-07:002011-03-22T09:05:49.119-07:00Qadhafi<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9DKJzrwRQA/TYjIu5zsykI/AAAAAAAADTg/BmGMXg2t0Q8/s1600/Muammar_al-Gaddafi.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586936045870303810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S9DKJzrwRQA/TYjIu5zsykI/AAAAAAAADTg/BmGMXg2t0Q8/s400/Muammar_al-Gaddafi.jpg" /></a> <div></div>“He’s turned the military on his own,”<br />says Cameron, sincere and open-handed,<br />“and thus this madman must be overthrown.”<br /><br />We will not mention the example shown<br />in Derry, when the Government demanded<br />the military turn upon its own.<br /><br />But rather let the unspun mind now hone<br />in on the view that Qadhafi should be branded<br />a madman who must now be overthrown.<br /><br />When there’s a revolution ‘gainst the throne,<br />how should this treasonous act be countermanded<br />if not by turning soldiers on ‘their own?’<br /><br />Mobilise the dentists? Maybe phone<br />the carpenters to get the rough wood sanded?<br />Would this stop ‘madmen’ being overthrown?<br /><br />From desert scrub and toppled inert stone,<br />see how the hopes of Libyans expanded<br />since Qadhafi made the military his own.<br /><br />But Cameron / Blair says we cannot condone<br />the use of force Qadhafi has commanded<br />and thus the madman must be overthrown.<br /><br />Look how much the fledgling state has grown<br />since foreign occupation was disbanded,<br />then tell me the military’s not his own<br />and why this ‘madman’ should be overthrown.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-3990012425095821422011-03-08T14:28:00.001-08:002011-03-08T14:30:36.500-08:00Bertie and Ash Wednesday<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g3TTUEyhugo/TXatqzmxl2I/AAAAAAAADRo/x69u_wz5baE/s1600/ashes.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581839739091261282" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g3TTUEyhugo/TXatqzmxl2I/AAAAAAAADRo/x69u_wz5baE/s400/ashes.jpg" /></a> (<em>For me Ash Wednesday always reminds me of Bertie Ahern getting the ash mark at Mass in the morning and it alternately fading and strengthening during the day</em>)<br /><div></div><div></div><br />Where did Bertie keep his ashes<br />to top up his mark of Lent?<br />Did his aide arrange small stashes<br />everywhere the fecker went?<br />Did he stuff them in his pocket<br />after Mass, when he was leaving?<br />Did he keep them in a locket<br />like a widow who is grieving?<br />Did his secretary buy them<br />and secrete them in her bag<br />till he needed to apply them<br />when his penance seemed to sag?<br />All the papers would wax lyrical;<br />some claimed it was black paint!<br />But perhaps it was a miracle<br />and he really was a saint?Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-11089700802950945822011-03-08T14:25:00.000-08:002011-03-08T14:28:21.389-08:00Song for Brian<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ-qlStXxTk/TXatN08tjII/AAAAAAAADRg/u0zxevgdXRo/s1600/cowen.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581839241235500162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ-qlStXxTk/TXatN08tjII/AAAAAAAADRg/u0zxevgdXRo/s400/cowen.bmp" /></a> (<em>written January 2010</em>)<br /><div></div><br />You were charming and dutiful,<br />unbearably beautiful,<br />when you first assumed power from Bertie.<br />With your Offaly brogue,<br />you were no Dublin rogue,<br />though your language at times could be dirty.<br />But your star took a tumble<br />and then started to crumble<br />as the economy started to waver.<br />At the end of our tether,<br />we rise up together<br />and ask you, dear Brian, will you do us a favour?<br /><br /><em>Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?<br />I’m afraid that your snout is too long in the trough.<br />You once were my pin-up<br />and helped keep my chin up<br />but now, like the rest, I just scoff.<br />Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?<br /><br /></em>To give you your kudos,<br />you comprehensively screwed us<br />like no other Taoiseach before you,<br />while your party’s back benches<br />and political wenches<br />line up to declare they adore you.<br />But now confidence drains<br />and your lustred star wanes<br />and you face a show-down with Micéal.<br />But even if you beat him,<br />Disarm him, unseat him,<br />the writing’s in font forty-eight on the wall.<br /><br /><em>Oh Brian, would you ever get lost?<br />For years, we poor sods will be counting the cost.<br />Your retirement pension<br />doesn’t need an extension<br />for your nest is already well-mossed.<br />Oh Brian, would you ever get lost?<br /><br /></em>It’s not that I am a fan<br />of Mary Hanafin,<br />Noel Dempsey makes me break out in spots.<br />Brian Lenihan blunders,<br />Batt O’Keeffe thunders,<br />Mary Coughlan just gives me the hots.<br />No there’s no-one to touch you<br />and it’s clear that, as such, you<br />exult in untouchable splendour<br />But despite your great beauty<br />and devotion to duty,<br />the worrying fact is – we’d rather have Enda.<br /><br /><em>Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?<br />A doctor should grab your two balls and cry ‘Cough!”<br />Mary Harney’s a cutie,<br />with Pam Anderson beauty,<br />but sadly you’re no Hasselhof.<br />Oh Brian, would you ever feck off?<br /></em>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-68239222969968197392011-03-08T14:23:00.000-08:002011-03-08T14:25:32.415-08:00November 2010<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LcZuxv4yVug/TXasvy2vhjI/AAAAAAAADRY/F4qFUrZZIV4/s1600/yeats.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 275px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581838725277517362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LcZuxv4yVug/TXasvy2vhjI/AAAAAAAADRY/F4qFUrZZIV4/s400/yeats.jpg" /></a> <div></div>Though we maintained (with fingers crossed)<br />and voices pitched in treble clef,<br />that fiscal control was not lost,<br />still came the men from IMF.<br />For us, no more beef bourguignon<br />and no more merlot that we crave,<br />for sovereign Ireland’s dead and gone –<br />it’s with the tiger in the grave.<br /><br />Remember how the tiger growled<br />and houses sprang up cross the land;<br />and unions were disembowelled<br />and talk of spending cuts was banned;<br />and how the banks lent money on<br />a nod, a handshake, wink and wave?<br />Sovereign Ireland’s dead and gone –<br />it’s with the tiger in the grave.<br /><br />Was it for this the King of Celts<br />flew to Paris to purchase shirts;<br />and counselled, apropos our belts,<br />to tighten them until it hurts;<br />for this that Bertie smiled upon<br />the builders and the cash they gave?<br />Sovereign Ireland’s dead and gone –<br />it’s with the tiger in the grave.<br /><br />Could we but call on every man<br />that brought the good times to this state,<br />Burke, P.Flynn and Lenihan,<br />for sure we’d face a finer fate.<br />But Ireland is a dying swan,<br />no longer peopled by the brave.<br />and sovereign Ireland’s dead and gone –<br />it’s with the tiger in the grave.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-50811343394047527432011-03-08T14:22:00.001-08:002011-03-08T14:23:35.321-08:00Rabbits and juggernauts<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rU-fWY-kp5w/TXasPnmqerI/AAAAAAAADRQ/Q2-NJDkGggU/s1600/rabbit-in-your-headlights-card1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 281px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581838172501473970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rU-fWY-kp5w/TXasPnmqerI/AAAAAAAADRQ/Q2-NJDkGggU/s400/rabbit-in-your-headlights-card1.jpg" /></a> (<em>written November 2011</em>)<br /><div></div><br />It is a dark, moonless road,<br />chill after the incessant downpour<br />and we are paralysed with fear<br />in the headlights of world attention<br />as the juggernaut of financial meltdown<br />accelerates towards us.<br /><br />The days of gaily tumbling<br />down grass-lush hills<br />have slipped into a kind of folk legend.<br />Oh why did we ever think<br />that there was more to life<br />than fighting and copulation?<br /><br />To the left or the right?<br />Even if we knew which dank ditch<br />offered the greater chance of escape,<br />we would still remain frozen<br />to the thick white line<br />of party political gamesmanship.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-55498736273649946922011-03-08T14:17:00.000-08:002011-03-08T14:20:25.714-08:00Something rotten down at Laura Ashley<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Klc_y3AcGtI/TXarW26fybI/AAAAAAAADRI/j3CNY-53zok/s1600/GraftonStreetProtestNov10PA.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581837197358647730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Klc_y3AcGtI/TXarW26fybI/AAAAAAAADRI/j3CNY-53zok/s400/GraftonStreetProtestNov10PA.jpg" /></a> (<em>written November 2011 - Laura Ashley sells out to Disney on Grafton Street and screws workers on redundancy</em>)<br /><div></div><br />There’s something rotten down at Laura Ashley,<br />once world-renowned for elegance and style.<br />They’ve treated loyal workers very rashly.<br /><br />Perhaps they thought their staff would be docile<br />and accept the measly terms of their employers<br />(once world-renowned for elegance and style?)<br /><br />The company has now instructed lawyers<br />to try and muzzle all protesting workers<br />not happy with the terms of their employers!<br /><br />High Street fashion has become a circus<br />when profitable outlets grasp the money<br />and try and muzzle all protesting workers.<br /><br />Like circuses worldwide, though, it’s not funny.<br />Fair play and basic rights are shown the door<br />when profitable outlets grasp the money.<br /><br />Shakespeare nearly said it in days of yore –<br />there’s something rotten down at Laura Ashley.<br />Fair play and basic rights are shown the door<br />with loyal workers treated very rashly.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-55994288861101075092011-03-08T14:15:00.000-08:002011-03-08T14:17:52.931-08:00Every Day<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o0JMFZmhXFM/TXaqtZy_daI/AAAAAAAADRA/Q2IqCVjX2i0/s1600/debt_scam.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581836485167904162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o0JMFZmhXFM/TXaqtZy_daI/AAAAAAAADRA/Q2IqCVjX2i0/s400/debt_scam.jpg" /></a><em> (Every day it seems, the figure for our overall debt keeps rising</em> )<br /><p><em></em></p><p></p>Every day<br /><br />Every day, the number’s getting bigger,<br />Will we ever learn the final figure?<br />Debt like ours will never go away (a-hey, ahey-heyyy)<br /><br />Every day adds another billion<br />Thousands owed by e-ve-ry civilian,<br />Debt like ours will never go away.<br /><br />Every day, the billions keep on mounting,<br />People pray for accurate accounting,<br />Come what may, there’ll be no surmounting<br />How much we owe.<br /><br />Every day, things are getting worser,<br />The Swannee’s right up us and vice-versa,<br />Debt like ours will never go away (a-hey, ahey-heyyy)<br /><br />Every day, spreads this evil canker,<br />Every way, there’s a lot more rancour,<br />People say, let’s go find a banker<br />And string him up.<br /><br />Every day, things grow more uncertain,<br />Radio dominated by Joan Burton,<br />Debt like ours will never go away.<br /><br />Every day, we’re further in the doo-doo,<br />Maybe we should try a little voodoo<br />Debt like ours will never go away (a-hey, ahey-heyyy)<br /><br />Debt like ours will never go away.<br /><br />Debt like ours will never go away.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-23341239374682569472011-03-08T14:12:00.000-08:002011-03-08T14:14:41.227-08:00The derailment of the Ireland Express<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zfsZfNk4uTI/TXap_Dkw3AI/AAAAAAAADQ4/7JcmlqVgxbw/s1600/old_train_crash-1800s.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 277px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581835688928664578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zfsZfNk4uTI/TXap_Dkw3AI/AAAAAAAADQ4/7JcmlqVgxbw/s400/old_train_crash-1800s.gif" /></a> <div></div>(<em>written October 2010 for the Baffle Festival, Loughrea</em>)<br /><br />Gloom is prevailing,<br />Everybody’s wailing,<br />The Steam Train Ireland has suffered a de-railing.<br />The windows are broken,<br />The masses are outspoken,<br />Back in the Aras, the President’s woken.<br />The Ireland Express is one sorry mess.<br />The train’s on its side now,<br />We’re all groggy-eyed now,<br />Firemen are looking for people inside now.<br />The carriages are wrecked, the injin’s fecked,<br />Seems like we’ve all been taken for a ride now.<br /><br />Brian is the driver,<br />He’s a born survivor,<br />But now he’s as naked as Lady Godiva.<br />Lenihan, the stoker,<br />Is no good at poker.<br />Together the two just manage mediocre.<br />The Ireland Express is now in distress.<br />Look for solutions,<br />More contributions,<br />Lenihan tries the financial institutions.<br />This way, that-a-way,<br />Lenny puts the hat away.<br />Brian’s in the jacks, performing his ablutions.<br /><br />Enda’s muck-raking,<br />Starts bellyaching,<br />Claims that Brian was too slow in braking.<br />Brian is a-quaking,<br />Shiv’ring and a –shaking,<br />Stammers that the accident was not of his making.<br />The Ireland Express was once a success.<br />Finnegan, the banker,<br />Is riddled with rancour,<br />Says that Brian should’ve thrown out the anchor.<br />Brian refutes this, angrily disputes this,<br />Repeats it’s a steam train, not an oil tanker.<br /><br />Sanity is wobblin’,<br />Squawkin’ and a-squabblin’,<br />The pixie blames the elf and the elf blames the goblin.<br />Up pipes Enda,<br />With vitriolic splendour<br />“If you don’t want the train, then put it out for tender.’<br /><br />The Ireland Express starts to phosphoresce.<br />Armageddon’s coming,<br />The weak are succumbing,<br />Some find the road and have started thumbing.<br />Those that are left are feeling quite bereft,<br />The lords aren’t leaping but the drummers are drumming.<br /><br />They’ve called for a crane now<br />To lift up the train now.<br />Some say they’re too old to start up again now.<br />Morale is crumbling,<br />Lenny keeps mumbling,<br />Stocks in the railroad unstoppably tumbling.<br />The Ireland Express lacks all finesse.<br />Now it starts raining,<br />Everyone’s complaining,<br />Shoulders to the carriage and everyone’s straining.<br />Far too heavy! Let’s go for a bevy!<br />Large show of hands with very few abstaining.<br /><br />Joan’s chastising,<br />Psycho-analysing,<br />People block their ears as her voice keeps rising.<br />Money condenses,<br />Melt-down commences,<br />Ivor’s on the track compiling his expenses.<br />The Ireland Express needs to convalesce.<br />Amid all the clamour,<br />Lenny builds a NAMA,<br />Mary Harney’s off to join Bananarama.<br />The tiger’s been neutered<br />Brian’s still fluthered,<br />One steam train going under the hammer.<br /><br />We’re all faced with less now,<br />We’re under duress now,<br />They found the former driver in the kitchen press now,<br />Anglo’s claimants<br />Renege on repayments<br />Then make calls to their banks in the Caymans.<br />The Ireland Express was driven to excess!<br />Strong words are bandied,<br />The chickens have landed,<br />Accusations are fierce and appreciably candid.<br />Rewind the clock! We’re all in hock!<br />The company’s disbanded -<br />Was it underhanded?<br />The train’s off the rails and the passengers are stranded.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-3419757396225784292010-10-15T05:58:00.001-07:002010-10-15T05:59:27.109-07:00Ex-Anglo chief bids to be made bankrupt in the US<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TLhQDYyT1WI/AAAAAAAAC20/CEgECSqbqEc/s1600/drumm.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528256561720579426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TLhQDYyT1WI/AAAAAAAAC20/CEgECSqbqEc/s400/drumm.jpg" /></a> <div></div>A country to be proud of<br /><br />He’s been living in Cape Cod,<br />doubtless made his peace with God,<br />after driving Ireland to the brink of ruin.<br />With his anti-Midas touch,<br />his banking record’s such,<br />that we can’t fathom all the debt accruin.’<br /><br />Now a court in Massachusetts,<br />where a judge of Yankee hue sits,<br />will hear this banker’s bankruptcy petition.<br />And sadly, it’s no joke<br />that this still-quite-wealthy bloke<br />has made a hefty counter-claim submission.<br /><br />He says the bank’s an onus<br />to fork out his pension bonus,<br />and damages accrued from loss of salary.<br />How very wise, one might declare,<br />that he is suing over there,<br />and not doing it before an Irish gallery.<br /><br />Furthermore, if he’s successful,<br />in this case both hard and stressful,<br />he’ll hang on to his multi-million pension<br />and his house in Malahide,<br />and the house he has States-side,<br />and any others that you care to mention.<br /><br />Meanwhile, a man whose kid<br />left a cardboard box and lid<br />beside the bottle bank in Superquinn,<br />was sentenced to do time<br />for this arbitrary crime.<br />What a marvellous country we are living in!Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-14150772803514810792010-09-29T11:03:00.001-07:002010-09-29T11:05:52.949-07:00Cementgate<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TKN_ginB2pI/AAAAAAAACyM/yuTOcw6yzCk/s1600/0003bd19-380.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 380px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522397765109406354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TKN_ginB2pI/AAAAAAAACyM/yuTOcw6yzCk/s400/0003bd19-380.jpg" /></a> <em>From RTE - </em><br /><em>Truck protest<br />A 41-year-old man was arrested this morning after a concrete mixer truck was driven up to the gates of Leinster House.<br />The words 'Anglo Toxic Bank' were displayed on the drum of the truck and a billboard on the back of the truck said 'all politicians should be sacked'.<br />The truck has since been removed and Kildare Street has fully reopened to traffic.<br />The operation to clear the entrance was made more difficult because the vehicle's brake lines had been cut, immobilising it.<br />The man is being questioned at Pearse Street Garda Station on suspicion of causing criminal damage.<br /></em><br />Enemy of the state<br /><br />With concrete truck he blocked the Daíl gate,<br />a heinous, revolutionary crime<br />that stopped the lawful business of the state.<br /><br />Lock him up and leave him to his fate.<br />The judges should ensure he does hard time –<br />with concrete truck he blocked the Daíl gate!<br /><br />Ignore the rapists they’ve let out of late –<br />it takes a rather special sort of slime<br />to stop the lawful business of the state.<br /><br />And never mind the bankers that negate<br />this country’s hopes and won’t pay back a dime.<br />With concrete truck he blocked the Daíl gate!<br /><br />Make a harsh example, less this trait<br />of viewing Government as pantomime<br />should stop the lawful business of the state.<br /><br />You can’t expect our leaders to debate<br />barricaded in by sand, cement and lime!<br />With concrete truck he blocked the Daíl gate,<br />and stopped the lawful business of the state.Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-57749723383058290492010-09-20T22:25:00.000-07:002010-09-20T22:26:43.192-07:00The office of the Taoiseach<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TJhB96gycqI/AAAAAAAACwM/NvaGX47m7hI/s1600/brian_cowen1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519233875277148834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 166px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/TJhB96gycqI/AAAAAAAACwM/NvaGX47m7hI/s400/brian_cowen1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The office of the Taoiseach<br /><br />It is really mystifyin’<br />That the populace all think<br />That our charismatic Brian<br />Was the worse the wear for drink.<br />The interview on radio that caused this pint-sized stir<br />Was given in his traditional, laconic culchie burr.<br />To say he ran his words together – that is just a slur,<br />A slander on the office of the Taoiseach.<br /><br />An eight hour drinking session<br />Wouldn’t leave him worse for wear.<br />What gives you that impression?<br />It’s really so unfair!<br />It’s a new low for the state, he says, confronted on all flanks<br />And on mature reflection, yes, we all agree it ranks<br />Much lower than child sex scandals and the business with the banks,<br />This attack upon the office of the Taoiseach.<br /><br />The Taoiseach’s hale and hearty,<br />He doesn’t mind a sup,<br />(Say supporters of the party<br />As they try to keep him up)<br />No fear of any Garda who might ask him to exhale.<br />Of course he’s stone cold sober after all those pints of ale,<br />It’s all a fiendish plot that has been hatched by Fine Gael,<br />A scourge upon the office of the Taoiseach.<br /><br />He is cultured and well-tutored<br />And his diction is controlled.<br />Sure, of course he wasn’t fluthered,<br />It was only a bad cold.<br />The aspirins he guzzled down were merely antidotal,<br />Rumours of binge-drinking, I am told, are anecdotal,<br />In fact, if truth be told, the man is practically tee-total,<br />Befitting the grand office of the Taoiseach.<br /><br />And if he lets his hair down<br />And starts lurrying the gargle,<br />Should moral pressure bear down?<br />To deny him Waxie’s Dargle?<br />Why should his drink consumption matter to the queuing classes?<br />Carlsberg is the drink to lead the country out of chassis,<br />Didn’t Churchill see the war out through a pair of brandy glasses?<br />Raise your pints now to the office of the Taoiseach. </div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-90552727007443978632010-02-21T09:29:00.000-08:002010-02-21T09:42:24.716-08:00Willie O’Dea triolet<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/S4FvqmJxdRI/AAAAAAAACJc/vVDgOuWerLE/s1600-h/willie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440752602426995986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/S4FvqmJxdRI/AAAAAAAACJc/vVDgOuWerLE/s320/willie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">The spade sliced through the fertile earth too easily.<br />Too late, he saw he’d dug himself a tomb.<br />“Check the brothel out!” he’d swaggered breezily.<br />The spade sliced through the fertile earth too easily.<br />“But I’m a victim too!” he trembled queasily,<br />Forgetting people mock the man for whom<br />The spade has sliced through fertile earth too easily.<br />Too late! He saw he’d dug himself a tomb.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em>Many thanks to <span style="color:#000000;"><a href="http://hyggedigter.blogspot.com/2010/02/theme-thursday-bell-triolet-for-barry.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+PoetikatsInvisibleKeepsakes+%28Poetikat%27s+Invisible+Keepsakes%29"><strong>Kat Mortensen</strong></a> for introducing me to the triolet, which I'd never heard of!</span></em></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-70108969220632823232010-02-10T20:14:00.001-08:002010-02-10T20:15:29.102-08:00The Lament of George Lee<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/S3OERubCw8I/AAAAAAAACHo/zGtW6vIb2SU/s1600-h/george_lee_finegael-233x300.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436834615220421570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/S3OERubCw8I/AAAAAAAACHo/zGtW6vIb2SU/s320/george_lee_finegael-233x300.jpg" border="0" /></a> I was the Truth, I was the Light,<br />I was the man who’d make things right,<br />My election was a natural progression.<br />I was the One, I was the Prophet,<br />Those who wore a cap would doff it,<br />I was the man to lead the country from recession.<br /><br />I was wise, I was respected,<br />As I passed, crowds genuflected,<br />I was Moses come to set his children free.<br />I was worshipped by the peasants<br />For my knowledge and my presence –<br />With hope, the country turned its eyes to me.<br /><br />But in the corridors of power,<br />My great vision soon turned sour,<br />My aspirations spiralled down in flames.<br />As the new boy in the school,<br />They would take me for a fool<br />And never let me join in playground games.<br /><br />I was the boy left by the wall<br />Always waiting for the call<br />Whenever they selected football teams.<br />In the back row of the class<br />I’d sit glumly on my ass,<br />The golden boys eclipsing all my dreams.<br /><br />All I wanted was a mate<br />To reassure me I was great,<br />A friend who’d recognise my true ability.<br />But Enda and wee Dickie<br />Seemed to think I was a thickie<br />And wouldn’t let me near responsibility.<br /><br />So I’m taking back my ball<br />And you can shag them, one and all,<br />No more you’ll see me on the campaign trail.<br />Under-utilised, my talents<br />In the field of budget balance<br />Will not be offered out to Fine Gael.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-68111685288453481752009-12-28T21:16:00.000-08:002009-12-28T21:18:35.374-08:00Sympathy for the Devil<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SzmRFD_0YiI/AAAAAAAAB_c/6YtzubefJrc/s1600-h/brian-cowen-griffin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420523142675456546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SzmRFD_0YiI/AAAAAAAAB_c/6YtzubefJrc/s320/brian-cowen-griffin.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Our Taoiseach, it seems, is lamenting,<br />The “most difficult year” of his life.<br />Condemnation has been unrelenting<br />And talk of elections is rife.<br /><br />He’s been under attack from the pensioners,<br />Public servants have yelled in his face,<br />And the tax-paying workers? Don’t mention us!<br />We’ve spent the whole year on his case!<br /><br />The back benchers don’t welcome the budget,<br />It’ll lose them more votes than they’ll win.<br />But the Taoiseach knows well he can’t fudge it,<br />Or the IMF hawks will wade in.<br /><br />He’s hitched his old wagon to NAMA,<br />Though they claim he’s just bailing out banks,<br />Yet this long-running, slow-moving drama<br />Hasn’t managed to earn him much thanks.<br /><br />He’s assailed on all sides by opponents<br />Who delight in the invective hurled<br />And claim we possess the components<br />Required to join the Third World.<br /><br />But still, you can’t be sympathetic<br />When your mortgage is short a few bob.<br />To his plight, we remain apathetic,<br />At least he has still got a job.<br /><br />And if he loses his lofty position,<br />Will he survive on jobseekers’ allowance?<br />No. His pension will ward off attrition<br />And keep things au fait for the Cowens.<br /> </div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-39751240508714561852009-12-05T13:47:00.000-08:002009-12-05T13:50:08.086-08:00Yet another Council meeting<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SxrVdfCVHQI/AAAAAAAAB54/tOXenkkaXJQ/s1600-h/573806_6a3eded3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411872604763266306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SxrVdfCVHQI/AAAAAAAAB54/tOXenkkaXJQ/s400/573806_6a3eded3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">I’m here at yet another Council meeting<br />To listen to the wailing and self-pity,<br />To hear the lonely councillors all bleating<br />About the lack of money in the kitty.<br />Each week, they pray that some new Walter Mitty<br />Will rise and offer all a fulsome greeting.<br />For now though, life is practical and gritty<br />Down here at yet another Council meeting.<br /><br />Oh still, my heart, from wild and joyful beating,<br />When viewing these fine shapers of the city.<br />The arguments, so often self-defeating,<br />Hold sentiments that are not very pretty.<br />Meanwhile I’m trying hard to write a ditty<br />But humour in this chamber is too fleeting.<br />Sadly I don’t feel the slightest witty,<br />Attending yet another Council meeting.<br /><br />According to the maintenance committee,<br />Two per cent of homes lack central heating.<br />They state, descending to the nitty-gritty,<br />They’re worried ‘bout the septic tanks they’re treating.<br />Is any place in Christendom more shitty,<br />Considering the crap that they’re excreting?<br />I’d rather go and fondle Conway Twitty<br />Than sit through yet another Council meeting.<br /><br /> </div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-54364703707877945812009-10-26T16:35:00.000-07:002009-10-26T16:36:44.062-07:00The resignation of John O’Donoghue<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SuYydfWBM2I/AAAAAAAAB3A/lMl5V4jzkgg/s1600-h/John_ODonoghue_P1_display.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397056685661565794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 363px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SuYydfWBM2I/AAAAAAAAB3A/lMl5V4jzkgg/s400/John_ODonoghue_P1_display.jpg" border="0" /></a> The bullfrog joked and smoked<br />And croaked his deep felt apologies<br />For whatever hurt he may have caused<br />To The Office,<br />Though it was obvious from his rubbery skin<br />And in his big lugubrious eyes<br />That he felt that, actually,<br />He had nothing to apologise for.<br />From the banks, the children laughed<br />And poked him with long sticks,<br />Cut from Autumn-bared boughs,<br />Trying to dislodge him from the flat rock<br />In the middle of the fast-flowing current.<br />But he remained unmoved,<br />The merest hint of a tremor<br />Wobbling his giant double chin.<br />Bloated, he could not turn<br />When they assailed him from behind<br />With luscious blackberries<br />That recently hung ripe from the bramble.<br />He blinked imperiously,<br />Squatting immobile on his slate throne<br />Until the water rose too high<br />And he was obliged to leap from sight<br />With a deft splash,<br />Leaving ne’er a ripple on the smooth surface.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-79554914491144852772009-09-13T08:15:00.001-07:002009-09-13T08:16:53.752-07:00Pro Europe Anti Treaty<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/Sq0MzAUVqmI/AAAAAAAAB1I/SfZ9YEjnjPE/s1600-h/europe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380971200175778402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 63px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/Sq0MzAUVqmI/AAAAAAAAB1I/SfZ9YEjnjPE/s400/europe.jpg" border="0" /></a> Opposition to the treaty has been waning,<br />The Yes vote slowly coming to the fore,<br />Doubtless they will spend the time remaining<br />Muddying the waters even more.<br />I for one don’t contemplate secession,<br />I don’t believe we ought to be abstaining.<br />The treaty will not save us from recession<br />But EU membership is worth retaining.<br /><br />The strategy is clear in their campaigning<br />To get the Lisbon treaty voted in.<br />“Yes to Europe!” they cry out, maintaining<br />That this is why pro-treatyists should win.<br />But those of us inclined to answer nay,<br />Feel this is not a slogan worth sustaining.<br />We’re not against the Union per se<br />It’s simply ‘gainst the Treaty that we’re straining.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-39429211953470077112009-09-13T08:07:00.000-07:002009-10-26T16:37:47.521-07:00Where is the man?<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/Sq0LLjuYdxI/AAAAAAAAB1A/eJHR-dDvJFU/s1600-h/crown.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380969422973859602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/Sq0LLjuYdxI/AAAAAAAAB1A/eJHR-dDvJFU/s400/crown.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Where is the man we can rally behind,<br />The man who has courage to say the wrong thing<br />And guides us whatever the Furies may bring?<br /><br />Who is the man who will rise to be King<br />And show the true path to the poor and the blind,<br />No matter how rocky or badly-defined?<br /><br />What is a man who will speak his own mind<br />And cares not what stones his detractors may fling,<br />Maintaining a bird never flew on one wing?<br /><br />Why must a man be afraid of the sting<br />That shoots when the planets are wrongly aligned,<br />When truth, like a length od string, starts to</span> unwind?</a> </div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-33646339870148142492009-07-30T08:06:00.000-07:002009-07-30T08:08:18.884-07:00The shitehawk<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SnG3RWg7wVI/AAAAAAAABuY/vh39SdxysNk/s1600-h/kestrel_hovering_300_tcm9-139955.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364270139904344402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SnG3RWg7wVI/AAAAAAAABuY/vh39SdxysNk/s400/kestrel_hovering_300_tcm9-139955.jpg" border="0" /></a> The shitehawk, Ireland’s bird of prey,<br />Is common in our skies today,<br />Hov’ring over town and road<br />To disposition its great load<br />On people who are unaware<br />It’s up above them in the air.<br /><br />It comes in many shapes and sizes<br />Handing out its brown surprises.<br />Famous ornithologists<br />Spend many years compiling lists<br />Of all the many hybrid species<br />Currently dispensing faeces.<br /><br />There’s overchargers, red-light jumpers,<br />Bank head-shakers and gazumpers,<br />Petty thieves and hooded bowsies,<br />Scumbags who break into houses,<br />Men who can’t see what the fuss is<br />Sitting put on crowded buses.<br /><br />Authority that’s mean and petty,<br />Uncle George and Great Aunt Betty,<br />Journalists who ruin lives,<br />Cheating husbands, lazy wives,<br />Men who’ll sack you with a laugh<br />To take on cheaper, foreign staff.<br /><br />Folk who fling black sacks in ditches,<br />Curtain twitchers, nosey bitches,<br />Parkers in disabled spaces,<br />Intolerants of other races,<br />Girls that snipe and boys who bully,<br />Spin-doctors who make wrong acts woolly.<br /><br />The common wisdom is that this<br />Great bird that spreads its shite and piss<br />O’er everybody, old and young<br />(Indiscriminately flung)<br />Is much more common in the sky<br />Than ever was in years gone by.<br /><br />That isn’t quite the case however.<br />This great bird of prey has ever<br />Fouled our country top to toe,<br />Browning those green fields below.<br />It’s just, before, it seemed that we<br />Were crapped upon less openly.<br /><br /></div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4770624005756405095.post-64402486278281565282009-07-14T19:10:00.000-07:002009-07-19T07:23:58.667-07:00British soil<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SmMsbiXZZDI/AAAAAAAABtQ/5zV_qoT7Hhk/s1600-h/RollsofTurf.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360176833094050866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ok5p5uzcCaA/SmMsbiXZZDI/AAAAAAAABtQ/5zV_qoT7Hhk/s400/RollsofTurf.jpg" border="0" /></a> First they let in British sports at Croker,<br />Which made the blood of many people boil.<br />But this new revelation is a choker –<br />Our hallowed turf’s usurped by British soil!<br /><br />Is that what all the sons of Roisín died for?<br />Is this the product of our fathers’ toil?<br />Our players cannot take it in their stride, for<br />We’re unsure of our ground on British soil.<br /><br />Our fathers fought against the yoke of slavery,<br />To free ourselves from all things blue and royal.<br />And what’s the nett result of all that bravery?<br />To play the Sam Maguire on British soil?<br /><br />Surely there’s some earth upon this island,<br />Somewhere ‘twixt the Barrow and the Foyle,<br />Somewhere in the valleys or on high land<br />That could be used instead of British soil?<br /><br />So let us turf out those who would betray us!<br />All Irishmen must certainly recoil<br />At this great insult to our finest players,<br />And sod all those who favour British soil! </div>Peter Gouldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13292063172122249202noreply@blogger.com0