Somebody bought me a Leprechaun T-shirt, so I thought – I NEEDED to do this!!
I got the hat and the beard to go with it in an ‘OIRISH’ souvenir shop.
Away with the Fairies
Now I’ve lived around this island for a thousand years or more,
and it used to be a dacent quiet spot
But the humans just keep breeding, till there’s millions of them now,
And they’re taking over everything we’ve got
I was sitting under a fairy tree, one lovely summer’s eve
When I chanced to close my eyes for a wee nap
I awoke when some big gapshite grabbed me by the leg
And roared “I have ye now, me little chap”
He shouts ‘I have caught ye fair and square, and according to the rules,
And I’ll have yer crock of gold before ye go”
Sez I, “yer fairy stories, son, are a long way out of date,
We came off the oul’ gold standard long ago!
We heard that a Celtic Tiger was roaring around the place,
Atein’ land and dungin’ houses everywhere.
So we put our gold into the banks, so that it would be safe
‘Cos Bertie said them banker chaps were square!
I can show ye my portfolio, but it’s hardly worth yer while,
I had shares in Anglo-Irish and BP
If all me debts were totalled, and me assets sold for cash,
I could hardly buy this bloody fairy tree!
I had faith in ‘Fingers’ Fingleton, and bought shares in the Nationwide,
I guess that’s just the way the penny falls
You might have me by the leg, me boy, but that won’t make you rich,
For bloody NAMA has me by the . . . wallet !
Well, he was taken quite aback at that, and had to think again,
He says ‘at least you’ll have grant me a wee wish’
Says I ‘that is not a problem, but now the grants are EEC
Apply for them through the Min of Ag and Fish.
If you see you local MEP, and fill in three sets of forms
The wish sub-committee checks it’s up to scratch
They’ll print yer details in the press, in case anyone objects
In four languages, including Ulster Scotch!
And be sure to get the wording right – one fella made a wish
That his wedding tackle hung below his knee
He woke to find his feet were growing straight out from his arse
‘cos his legs had shrunk to nothing, d’ye see!
Then there’s eejits that keep wishing for impossible ideals
Like Stormont showing signs of brains or wit.
Husbands that wash dishes, and wives that don’t complain
‘World Peace’, and all that airy-fairy. . . stuff
And to cure all them diseases – sure all the hospitals would close
You would kill the NHS off at a stroke
All the golf clubs would be empty on a Wednesday afternoon,
‘cos doctors and the surgeons would be broke
Say things like ‘cross-community’, and mention ‘peace process’,
These days, it’s simply what you need to do!
If everything goes smoothly, and the World Heritage don’t mind
I’ll see you back here – maybe – in a year or two!
He says ‘That is just rubbish – I want something right now
Can you get me in to meet the Fairy Queen?’
Now I don’t know her personally, but I hear down in Belfast
There’s a nightclub where lots of them are seen!
Well, he cursed me up and down again, and called me things not nice
And threw me up into the fairy tree
He shouts ‘To Hell with all of yis’, and stomped off in a huff
Leaving me to just climb down completely free
So I dandered back to my wee place, to check my crock of gold,
Just as safe as it has been for manys a day
Yis don’t think we’d invest in all that housing bubble nonsense?
We’d see through them fairy stories miles away!