Monday, August 6, 2007


My patience is not quite as thick as before,
In fact it is wearing quite thin.
My tolerance snaps, whereas in days of yore,
I’d suffer it all with a grin.

A baby that cries in the frozen food lane,
I’ll bear it, but just for a while,
For if it persists, it will gnaw at my brain,
And I’ll disappear down the next aisle.

If I wake in the morning to RTE One,
With the uilleann pipes stridently calling,
I’ll wait for a minute and hope they’re soon gone,
Or else I’ll start cursing and bawling.

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