(Incidentally, my wife gives out yards when I call it Paddys Day - its not being respectful enough apparently)Great attention would be paid
To fixing on the green brocade,
And then the journey would be made
To watch the festive cavalcade,
A well-prepared, provisioned raid
Upon the GPO arcade.
Flag sellers did a roaring trade,
Enthusiasm was relayed.
We’d walk with eager step, afraid
We’d get there late and be dismayed,
Though with a fervent heart I prayed
Proceedings wouldn’t be delayed.
Behind the metal barricade
In Henry Street we always stayed,
Adjacent to the colonnade.
Then, hearing marching music played,
We craned and clapped and cheered and swayed
And jumped and laughed and shook and brayed.
We’d watch the lorries that conveyed
The floats embossed with felt and braid,
So colourful, yet well arrayed
With advertising brands displayed
Until, to call a spade a spade,
A sense of boredom would pervade.
Interest began to fade,
Attention very quickly strayed,
Tempers started to get frayed
And I’d launch into a tirade.
My hair was prematurely greyed
By Dublin’s Patrick’s Day parade.
To fixing on the green brocade,
And then the journey would be made
To watch the festive cavalcade,
A well-prepared, provisioned raid
Upon the GPO arcade.
Flag sellers did a roaring trade,
Enthusiasm was relayed.
We’d walk with eager step, afraid
We’d get there late and be dismayed,
Though with a fervent heart I prayed
Proceedings wouldn’t be delayed.
Behind the metal barricade
In Henry Street we always stayed,
Adjacent to the colonnade.
Then, hearing marching music played,
We craned and clapped and cheered and swayed
And jumped and laughed and shook and brayed.
We’d watch the lorries that conveyed
The floats embossed with felt and braid,
So colourful, yet well arrayed
With advertising brands displayed
Until, to call a spade a spade,
A sense of boredom would pervade.
Interest began to fade,
Attention very quickly strayed,
Tempers started to get frayed
And I’d launch into a tirade.
My hair was prematurely greyed
By Dublin’s Patrick’s Day parade.
I could see this as a song, along the lines of the Clancy Brothers' "Johnny McEldoo" - especially the way it all deteriorates at the end. Great stuff!
ReplyDelete(Incidentally, I did a whole weeks' worth of posts last year leading up to the day. You can even hear a podcast of me singing! This year, I just want it to be over. Now that the dust has settled - no pun intended - since my dad's death, this year every family event is more difficult than last year.)
Dear Peter: Political satire with a twist of four leaf clover. What's GOP? is that like GNP? Seems a bawdy, brawly bunch of leprachaun pubcrawlers that have a lark with their wee pint o' two. My Gaelic ancestors sure know how to have a good time times three! Happy St Paddy's Day! Many blessing to all!
ReplyDeleteGPO is the General Post Office, scene of the Easter Rising in 1916 and also where the knobs get to view the parade on a temporary stand while we fight each other to watch the endless parade of marching bands go past.
ReplyDeleteKat - I must check that out!! Sounds brilliant