Thirty-Two

mighty Finn MacCool, fierce Antrim lad
  slung sling-shot Samson right off his pad
  shattered mindsets, tilted clocks
  swiped Goliath in the docks
  gargantuan giants going mad

  Armagh apple girl, any topic
  she star-gazed past the misanthropic
  vantage point, two cathedrals
  Gullion top, polyhedrals
  planetarium, telescopic

  she came from Carlow, wee caitlin girl
  one of three sisters, gave you a twirl
  ancient bridge, river Barrow
  she was long, very narrow
  still glimpse her glance where wild waters swirl

  clever Cavan man miles from the sea
  found the Shannon source down on one knee
  tiny trickle, goodness sake
  then a torrent, then a lake
  in Breffni county coarse fish are free

  daft colleen from precipitous Clare
  bold like the Burren, grey bedrock stare
  turloughs flowing, born and bred
  banner county, father Ted
  Cliffs of Moher she jumped for a dare

  floaty accent, county man of Cork
  culinary city, knife and fork
  horizon dreams he was fed
  Cobh harbour past Mizen head
  around Kinsale then off to New York

  one from London, the other, Derry
  these two wee men were very hairy
  bendy bridge across the Foyle
  peaceful city soon to spoil
  their Sperrin looks were very scary

  there was an eejit from Donegal
  climbed up Muckish, had a great fall
  the scree slopes of Errigal
  still alive, it's a miracle
  his Malin head had no sense at all

  surly curly kid from County Down
  lost in the drumlins wearing a frown
  city edge, mountains of Mourne
  disappeared where he was born
  by Strangford narrows acting the clown

  legend of Dublin lived all alone
  yes, you guessed, it's our Molly Malone
  Howth to Dun Laoghaire
  she hobbled home weary
  heaving her wheel-barrow, skin and bone

  wily Fermanagh wench kept two men
  each was called Ernie from way back when
  overhead in their flying-boats
  spied her flashing petticoats
  ocean in sight, they fell short again

  seductive Galway gal would not stay
  such savage beauty she went astray
  whether Corrib, whether Mask
  Connemara man to ask
  to Inishbofin she played away

  bad-tempered Kerryman lost his ring
  by the Killarney lakes he did fling
  butt of jokes, very cruel
  Dingle berries, Carrantouhill
  his MacGillycuddys reek and sing

  bareback beauty from Kildare of course
  the equine county, she rode a horse
  the Curragh and Church of Oak
  Hill of Allen, found a bloke
  fell from her mount far into the gorse

  wee ossory cat from Kilkenny
  he lived in a castle with many
  his marbles were off the grid
  on festival floors they slid
  lost them all, he couldn't find any

  sad lad from Laois, brains short of an ounce
  escaped from prison hard to pronounce
  nailed tight down inside a crate
  trickling blood betrayed his fate
  men with batons were ready to pounce

  Leitrim lout took drink by the flagon
  very short coast, very short wagon
  went inland to buy a boat
  all-aboard, beer for his goat
  so raised a glass, Carrick-on-Shannon

  Limerick poetess made you think
  five lines she wrote then ran out of ink
  first, second and fifth must rhyme
  shorter third and fourth are fine
  but must keep their rhythm all in sync

  canny Longford Lil made you quiver
  banjo playing by Camlin River
  laid-back lady, bluegrass hair
  her fortress town, country fair
  tinkled and plucked she did deliver

  this talkative halyon hailed from Louth
  he robbed two banks then headed down south
  stopped at Dundalk to have a drink
  garda grabbed him in a blink
  that Drogheda gaol did shut his mouth

  wild west playboy from county Mayo
  did for his dad, very own say so
  holy mountain, dreaming star
  left the pub at Castlebar
  shoe hanging out his Ford Mondeo

  Meath mini minx so curious and slim
  from Navan or Kells or was it Trim?
  crawled into a passage-grave
  all by herself, very brave
  one leg out, you can still see her limb!

  most mysterious Monaghan boy
  sibling Virginia, she was his joy
  dressed up in his sister's clothes
  sexy Clones, no one knows
  'cept over the border, Auchnacloy

  tall Tullamore youth from Offaly
  he played around so awfully
  he zoomed right in on Zara
  next kissed his cousin Clara
  then cuddled Brosna unlawfully

  Roscommon culchie, gangly and rare
  hung out near Boyle with spindly long hair
  web below her knobbly knee
  bank to bank across lough Ree
  wrapped up her men, eight legs in the air

  our Sligo boy, no good at countin'
  he spied some girls down by the fountain
  one, two, three, how many more?
  his favourite to adore
  he chased her up Benbulben mountain

  Tipperary jockey rode with pace
  sure she won the Grand National race
  cheered from lough Derg to Cashel
  from Nenagh down to Clonmel
  loud bells were rung for her steeplechase

  Tyrone joker a champion be
  chalk in pocket he could hardly see
  bendy cue whipped their asses
  fifteen balls, such big glasses
  all for his ma and a tidy fee

  Waterford witch, many followers
  her crystal glass, many swallowers
  toast to the oldest city
  viking girl, very pretty
  velvet voice and plenty polymers

  Westmeath chancer in boot of his car
  some hooch for the folk of Mullingar
  for Athlone, fancier grog
  illegal still from the bog
  smooth smiling man who smoked a cigar

  wretched banshee on the Wexford beach
  collecting pebbles within her reach
  the sea then stole her ardour
  he left from Rosslare harbour
  lifting her eyes she started to screech!

  wild Wicklow wag went out to play
  the Arklow shoreline and on to Bray
  Sugarloaf, Lugnaquilla
  Glendalough, wee tequila
  back to Greystones, he's had a good day
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace