O’Brien, Kavanagh # Bloomsday.
Red roses enchanting
Outside of Mooncoin
As sun soaks the valley
Beneath Sliabh na mBan
Blue skies enshrouding
There’s one place to be
Where the Mountains of Mourne
Sweep down to the sea
Folks of good purpose
They chit and they chat
In search of the answers
With hope on the mat
An orchard is thriving
God’s fruit to produce
As horsemen dismount
To enter Dunluce
The fires of Uisneach
They redden the sky
A toast to our Royals
And each passer by
Bold Flann O’Brien
And his black pint of plain
When he met Patrick Kavanagh
A plan set in train
They rode across Dublin
With Joyce on their minds
Re-enacting a Bloomsday
Like no other kind
A place of damnation
Our wonderful west
‘To hell or to Connacht’
At Cromwell’s behest
A bard from the Banner
Left nothing to spare
When he sang of his heaven
The west coast of Clare
Five million people
Splashed by the spray
While legions of victims
Pass on everyday.
To the west….!
tomclancy 