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he is a poser Irish
He is a poser Irish I said. Freckles probably painted on.
I don’t think so replied my great great aunt Dawn.
I bet he’s not got a drop of Irish blood, I said.
When I learned the truth my face turned red.
His grandpa was a McDoogle on one side of the tree.
The other grandpa was christened Sean McCaffrey.
His grandmother had been a Hennessey on his mom’s side.
McDonald was the name of his paternal grandpa’s bride.
I stand corrected I said. Please don’t say anything to him.
Why in the world did they name him something plain like Jim?
Top of the morning to you, James said, as he came into view.
I served him some shepherd pie, and some Irish beef stew.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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