Long Patricks Poems
Long Patricks Poems. Below are the most popular long Patricks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patricks poems by poem length and keyword.
Top of the Morning to you
It is a beautiful day, right cousin Lou?
Until the parade starts, what shall we do?
We have to entertain ourselves ‘til two.
My idea is to buy corned beef for Sue.
She is the best cook in Kalamazoo.
While it is on simmer, here is what we will do
Round up your harmonica and my kazoo
Top of the morning to you Bonnie McDew
Want to watch the parade with us at two?
You’ve invited too many women already said Lou.
Mrs. McLeary’s cow Bessie went “moo!”
I asked Bessie “Where is your cousin Stew?”
They were always getting into trouble, these two.
The horse tried to tattle, but his super long snout grew.
So I knew he was lying about Bessie and Stew.
Smacked the shalliwag’s hand good and clear
He might be my cousin, but not really dear
He was getting too close to my golden pot
He should have known better, he really ought
Hey! The Clurichaun yelled as I slapped his hand.
I thought we were cousins, so Irish grand!
We are I allowed, but you are way into your cups.
It is time to go home, and play hard with your pups.
The next thing I knew he’d harnessed the master’s sheep.
He was riding them to the night cliff, which was way too sleep.
I put down my shoe and ran after him with my hammer
But what was that music? I stopped a second to yammer.
It was an Irish jig it was. Good and clear from Mountain of Cooley.
I knew what it meant, and the dancing began. I became pretty unruly.
I harnessed a goat, and ran after my cousin.
There’d be pretty girls there, maybe a dozen.
A leprechaun knows when his luck is beginning.
Maybe I’d meet two fancy faeries who could not stop grinning.
The gold long forgotten, I head for the mountain.
When I got there my idiot cousin was down in the fountain.
I should have let him drown, but my ma would be mad.
So I rescued the idiot, so big and so bad.
A pretty Irish faerie came flitting up to see.
She began flirting and primping. A beautiful day just to be.
St. Patrick’s Day was the day we were wed.
I had new shoes, made by my cousin Ned.
My bride was fancy, pretty, and not a bit old.
She I gladly traded for all that stolen gold.
SILENCE SURROUNDED ME CARRYING ONLY
DATA FROM SPECIAL FORCES I'D RELEASED
MY SOUL BEFORE THEE ENTRY MY THOUGHTS
COVERED IN SURVIVAL SKILL
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
AN YET THERE WAS NO WAY OF SURVIVING
THEE ULTIMATE ASSASINATION THREAT
THAT BESTOWED ME UPON THIS DAY
CAREFULLY PLANNED I MUST SAY
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
ASSAULT RIFLES LEANING AGAINST
THE COMPLEX WALLS FRIENDS AND FOE
GATHERED FROM BERLIN TO BERUIT
A SINGLE SHOT MOUNTED
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
OVER MY TEMPORAL LOBE BACK UP
CLEAVERLY PLANTED ABOVE MY FRONTAL LOBE
AN ANGEL GABRIELLE WEARING A PASTEL ROBE
THE JEST OF DEATH IS WHAT I PROPOSED
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
ON THIS FINE DAY THE SUN BEAMED BRIGHTLY
OF LEFT OVER AUTUMN HINTS OF INDIAN SUMMER
GREENWICH BESEECHED MY WITHERED SOUL
CARDINIAL NUNNS RABI'S INSISTED WHITE CLOTH
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
TAMPERED WITHIN AN INFALLIBLE HUSH
WHEN ALL I EMPLOYED WAS A TANGLIBLE SCREAM
I SO DESPERATELY COVENANT THOUGH OUT DI VATICAN
A KNIGHTS OWN SPHERE OVER LOOKING MORTALITY
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
THE HAMPTONS CAMEBRIDGE IN VIEW A SIGHING COO
WE'D MASTERED TRUTH AND FAILED AT LAUGHTER
CREATING A MELANCHOLY SOLACE WHY CENTERED
BENEATH A PAIR OF BLOOD SOAKED BAILEY'S
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
EMPTY AN YET OVER FLOWING WITH BITTER FRET
CONFUSION WRATH A SORTED BIAS TO THE NOTION
THAT FROM NOW ON EVERY SINGLE DAY WOULD BE
NOVEMBER TWENTY SECOND NINETEEN SIXTY THREE
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
THE DAY SHAMROCKS WELPT OVER ST PATRICKS CATHEDRAL
THAT FINE DAY CAMELOT SLEPT IN NEVER READING
THE MORNING PAPER LEFT FOREVER DANGLING UPON
AN UNDIVIDED GRASSY KNOLL HENCE THE SAME
SIMPLY DONE BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
Here comes a bit of blarney for you
I looked up and saw the boy named Stew
He was known for tall tales and lies.
One of those entertaining Irish guys.
Saw Johnny Cash at the pub just now.
He rode in on a donkey, or maybe a cow.
This was the tamest tale that he told.
Next he said he had found the leprechaun’s gold.
His tales were getting a bit better every year.
This was said by my aunt with the magic mirror.
See you later, said Stew, got to go to the parade.
“In Dublin probably!” yelled out the upstairs maid.
Johnny Cash came out of the tavern then.
He gave Stew a tweak under his chin.
Let’s go get that gold, so we can get to Dublin, okay?
The rest of us were totally blown away.
Al had dated many women from France, Spain, England and such.
you have never dated an Irish lassie though? Asked his brother Dutch.
not yet, he admitted, are they different than the ones I have squired?
Dutch said, ”You would have your hands full, now until you get retired.”
Colleen was an Irish beauty, with ginger hair and a verdant eye stare.
Al tried to look away, but the idea of dating her was more than a dare.
Colleen laughed when he approached, acted like he was a Boston dope.
he was soon spending all his hours washing himself with zesty soap.
he wanted to impress Colleen; she was the best he had ever seen.
she had her brothers look him over, Al to them was not quite keen.
this cinched the deal, and the young couple ran to tie the knot.
with a five-year-old, a four-year-old, a two-year-old; they are still very hot!
is there room for the Irish in the good ole USA?
room for the hanging of the greens, Hennessey O’Shay?
we will hang this flag over our tavern on Tuesday.
Irish parade will come by and leave a bit of Celtic our way.
will Father O’Leary listen to the confessions of Stephen and Clay?
will there be a mad dash to the Blarney Stone with a tiny sashay?
believe the hanging of the greens might be here to stay.
is corn beef and cabbage on the menu for Tuesday?
merry and gay, we will dance a lively jig, and Pat's pied piper will play.
famous leprechaun will disappear, with his crock of gold, far away.
paddy mcCullough, is there room for the Irish in the good ole USA?
we will know more on Tuesday during the St. Patty’s day soiree.
Colleen is riding a pipe to Dublin town.
She’s dressed in the greens, wearing a gown.
I wonder if she will ride the pipe to me? Asked a clown.
The rest of us stared at him, one gave him a frown.
The news went through the pub, to everyone around.
Colleen is riding a pipe to Dublin, is she quite sound?
I decided to have more shepherd pie and stick around.
Colleen’s arrival was announced at midnight by a hound.
Of course she would arrive on St. Patrick’s Day!
We surrounded the pipe and whisked Colleen away.
Her face was a map of Ireland, we invited her to stay.
All of us recognizing a lassie who loved to play!
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman
think Monty Python's
Flying Circus skittering
on thin ice - Skidamarink
a dink, a dink...
hither and yon, to and fro
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, no spring chicken bro,
nevertheless oz offer friendship in toto
good day to thee with cheerful adieu.
Though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
~Very Happy St. Patrick's Day~
(Free Style)
St. Patrick's Day
we're celebrating today
folks wear color green
They drink green beer and dance
and throw parades everywhere
people wear shamrocks
St. Patrick's Day
is a day of magic
merry and laughter
people celebrate
drink eat, have fun with family friends
some also dance, have a ball
Might see a Leprechaun
or a pot just filled of gold
at the end of a rainbow
I wish you the best
may you enjoy this fun fare
all the entire day.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
March.17.2017
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
Wishing You And Yours a Very Happy And Safe St. Patrick's Day!
Seventeenth of March is Saint Patrick’s Day
Great day for the Irish I can honestly say
All over the world they’ll wear the green
Drink some stout and a glass of poteen
There will be parades up and down the land
With marchers walking behind the band
On lapels they’ll wear a sprig of green
Outrageous hats so that they are seen
You don’t have to be Irish to join in the fun
The St Patrick’s parades are for everyone
Some travel from near and some from afar
By plane, boat, train and motor car
If you’ve never been, go on enjoy the craic
You will enjoy it for sure and next year, go back
But it’s still March, might rain and be cold
Look out for a rainbow, you might find the gold
Many will be late going off to their bed
The next morning they might have a fuzzy head
But it’s only once a year so do have a ball
And a Happy St Patrick’s Day to one and all.