Short Brogue Poems
Short Brogue Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Brogue by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Brogue by length and keyword.
McDugal, the Leprechaun is a gent
Mick's wife always says he was Heaven sent
He shows respect to women
In their praises he's swimmin'
They love hearin' his Irish brogue accent
Rascal the rapscallion was a slyboots rogue
he fancied himself a pixie, spoke Irish brogue
we suspected he was a leprechaun hiding gold
he lived in Skeezicks Forest, Celtic land of old
Christmas Tree Boy waved a star on a stick
Said “abra ca dabra” in a brogue that was thick
Danced the holiday dance around the tree.
He was incredibly silly said my weird Aunt, Aunt Vee.
~ To be read with an Irish brogue ~
Mary, please marry 'me merry Barry'
'Me merry Berry,' Mary, please marry
Don’t marry Matty
Don’t marry Moti
Marry 'me Barry,' ~ Be merry, Mary
Aye, ‘Tis His Brogue
A stout Guinness will cause him to sing
a second will sharpen tongue’s sting
and after that
‘tis a known fact
he’ll talk for an hour and not say a thing.
John G. Lawless
1/22/2017
He died when I was a baby
I never felt his touch
Never heard his soft Irish brogue
Which I yearn to hear so much
I will never look into his lovely blue eyes
No memories to recall
He gave me the gift of life
Yet ,I never knew him at all!
I am a wearied wandering
man
Still trying to stick to my
menu
I have worn out my brogue
shoes
Now, i have to pad the hole in
my sole
But i would rather have a hole in
my shoes
Than have a hole in my soul.
(Written 16th October, 2025)
panama
hats
canvas
caps
cravats
&slacks-
a kaftan
or two
tabards
brand new-
sandal
brogue
leather
shoe,
jeans
with
seams
cardigan
jumpers
socks
too true-
braces
laces
shirt
&skirt..
one or two-
or three!
molly mcbee had a brogue that was thick
her gravelly voice scared her neighbor Brick
when he saw her coming he ran away
she laughed at this, showing her sense of play
here she comes, cute Molly McBee
She will be the death of Brick and me
Brick is hiding behind yonder tree
Please hide me from Molly McBee
A snarly-mouthed, cross-eyed, pessimist with an attitude toward mean.
Ann Marie disregards opinions that are not her own.
The town has ignored her for so long, few people remember her name.
She speaks in a pirate’s brogue when she speaks, which is not often.
Mostly to a newcomer who is brave enough to say “hello” to her.
Her relatives parted ways long ago, even though she still lives here.
She is satisfied with their arrangement.
So are the other six thousand and twenty-two residents.