Ireland the Land of Ire

As a boy I walked the town, near knowing everyone The Sun it shone all Summer long I revelled in the fun With relatives and friends we'd play, 'til darkness sought us out Then caring aunts would hunt us home as cousins turn and pout Up again at cock-crow, break fast then out the door And running, never walking, the games to play once more Hide and seek, then rounders, allies, maybe skipping On a very rare occasion we'd get to go day tripping We'd fight and cry and laugh and sigh, depending on the mood Occasionally stopping for the odd morsel of food Bread and jam, most times homemade, we'd sit out in the sun At tea time chips in paper bags enjoyed by everyone Seldom sick, though sometimes cuts and bruises, proudly, showing Worn with pride a bandage or a cast, all signed and glowing A fight sometimes would damp the mood, 'til hands would then be shook An hour later Truce would break, by either ones, left hook An interest in pressing things, that adults talk about A European Union? What's all the fuss about? With placards made, downtown we made, to EU we'll vote "NO" A pound a pound would soon be paid for steak, or so we're told The years rolled on the Eighties came the work it all dried up So overseas we had to go, to fill our working cup Though work was hard and times were tough your name it soon was known The toughest times for me at least was working for your own The Naughties came and chaos reigned, the inmates at the ZOO Were running 'round, en masse, unbound to see who's screwing who A Sea of Shame let no-one claim, not least our politicians We've done no wrong, we're just in charge, no need for our contrition We've heard the rally 'round before "We've got to tighten our belts" But silken shirts are worth much more than a simple peasants pelt So Glorious Leaders, Blameless Ones it seems a little funny We're in the ****, what will we do, we'll go and borrow money Spend millions on Tribunals, with nothing there to gain No point in trying to implicate, an Ass that knows no shame As folk are screwed at every turn and even shopping prices We'll form a new committee, "Shop Around", their sound advice is And even now "Sir Biffo", it isn't sinking in As "Lady Harney" stands besides you, as tall as you are thin The country's in the toilet and the Brands are in the Fire And we bend over graciously to be stamped in the Land of Ire