Finnegan Remembers
Finnegan Remembers….
Oh i can look and almost see,
My time in Ireland, verily,
Where I staggered drunken, oer the sod,
And had my way, perhaps a clod,
And fought the British see,
Finnegan, I was he,
who lived on taters merrily,
in Northern Ireland,
we weren’t free,
to be deported it was odd,
to leave old Ireland, me,
Minerva sailed, but she went down,
My fate, yes indeed to drown,
But the shark had me for tea,
Great white shark ate me, the sod,
It was the will of God,
No bloody chips were there?
Yes I was bloody rare,
tomato sauce ran free,
Resentment burns, no reason, where?
Underneath, deep memory yeah,
A prisoner of the crown,
Transported, 7 years around,
But the shark had set me free,
Till Joeys spirit came to me,
Memory of it makes me frown,
Cos Johnson now I be…
ah yes underneath the kettle boils,
the fire burns, injustice calls,
and vengeance yet will come,
embroils,
our memories are as one...
unfoiled, then some...
Don Johnson
Copyright © Don Johnson | Year Posted 2013
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