Thursday, August 2, 2007

A Chastisement for a Unionist Politician

In the person of a Fianna Faíl Stalwart

‘Tis difficult to comprehend
Your lack of trust, my northern friend,
For time, thus marching, proves the point
That Ulster is not out of joint.
The table may be warped and split,
But guns have not been brought to it.
The murd’rer’s shadow falls no more
Upon the politician’s door,
And surely you don’t still have qualms
‘Bout decommissioning of arms?
Those days are firmly in the past,
For balmy peace is here at last.
Come, come, my friend, ‘tis time to throw
Away the hate of long ago.
We know that there’s no easy fix
To bitter post-war politics,
‘Cept grasp the nettle, bite the bullet,
Wash that vengeance down your gullet,
For you both dig that northern sod
And bow down to the self-same God.
The differences that once existed
Have not majorly persisted.
As local people may be scarred
By violence in their own back yard,
So you’ve a duty to increase
Their hopes of everlasting peace.
So cast aside your sharpened sabres,
To your bosom clasp thy neighbours.
Lay aside your ancient, tribal
Differences about the Bible.
Don’t view the world in monochrome
But bring thy long-lost brother home,
Feed him, help him, bathe him, clothe him,
Though you yesteryear did loathe him.
Love him as the joys of life
And introduce him to the wife.
‘Tis time for you to go to bed
With those from whom you one-time fled,
And end this age of dire attrition
By entering in coalition.
What’s that you say, you cheery rogue,
In such a broad and bruising brogue?
You know that we can not endorse
Your flippant jests of geese and sauce.
You see, my friend, I fear you are
Extending this a bit too far.
Your view is doubtless none too clear
About our politics down here.
Fianna Faíl can’t entertain
A power-sharing with Sinn Fein!
Lord help us if that ruthless shower
Ever scraped its way to power.
Such a headstrong move would hurt us,
Cause our core vote to desert us,
By far the sternest reprimand
To ‘ere befall poor Ireland.

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