Archive for category Stuff

Pome For Helen Lucy Bloody Burke

Helen Lucy Burke
Her duty will not shirk
She’ll save us all from sin and rape
With her clippings and a tape

She spoke unto the senator
Oh many years ago
And he let slip
From learned lips
Some things we ought to know

He’ll buy your sons for baubles
If he gets into the park
His sin is great his morals sparse
His intent fell and dark
Oh he’ll pretend his discourse
Was a musing on the Classic
(A little modern for Ms Burke,
Her period’s the Jurassic)

The callers and the tweeters
Of thee they have no knowing:
“This HLB, just who is she
And when will she be going?”

Oh Helen,
Helen Lucy,
Helen Lucy Bloody Burke
Don’t save us from the Senator
Don’t drag up that auld work
Do not protect us, Helen Lucy
Silly Goosey Burke

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Song: “Spaniel Goalie”

For those of you who, like me, spent much of their childhood playing football in the rectory garden with a spaniel, this song will, I hope bring back bittersweet memories. It does for me. Not for the spaniel. He’s dead.

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Words and music ©2005 Dermot Carmody. Singing & playing by Dermot was recorded by Niall O’Sullivan.

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Pome For Scholesy

Farewell then, Paul Scholes
You often put with majesty
Your foot right through the ball
To huge effect
(Though sometimes, the contact point was lower)

A Ginger Devil,
You did strut and fret your hour on stage,
Adored from the gods
In the Theatre of Dreams.

“Break a leg, son”,
Fergie would mutter in your ear backstage.
“I’ll do my best, boss”,
You would honestly reply.

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Tractor Song

In some sort of sympathy with protesting farmers I present you with my song about one man’s love for a tractor. Indeed, for all tractors. As it contains both the line “Nothing is better than a Zetor” and the line “I was cheap with a Jeep”, I am very fond of it.

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Words and music ©2005 Dermot Carmody. Singing & playing by Dermot was recorded by Niall O’Sullivan.

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Bobby The Bunny Goes Leveraging

So. Anglo Irish Bank is to be split into a bank that is full if pointless evil Tiger residue and a bank that will accept deposits but won’t lend. The former is a pit of shame, the latter just a shitty game.

Why, Mister Lenihan, are you able to look a radio microphone in the diaphragm and a camera in the iris given the responsibility you bear for this surreal miasma? How do you do it? I can’t. This morning I brought a book back to Rathmines library which my 4 year old son had either allowed or encouraged to be partially ingested by a rogue bichon-friese dog. The dog had literally eaten my book. I felt responsible because I was responsible. I knew that I owed the library and the under-5 borrowing bookworms of Rathmines a book or the monetary equivalent.

I did not feel I could escape this responsibility by dividing the savaged volume into a good book and a bad book. There’s no shelf where the mangled spine and cover might reside masquerading as a book while on another shelf pages 5 to 6 with their still-intact pictures of Bobby The Bunny beaming acontextually out at the nippers. The two good pages of Bobby The Bunny Goes Picnicking may not be retained on the library’s catalogue as an actual book: capable of being stored but not loaned. Because that would be stupid.

I apologised for my failure as a boardbook custodian and accepted that the liability for that failure should be spread among those responsible, not among those who lost out through Bobby’s partial ingestion on my watch. I guess I could have panhandled my way up Rathmines Rd attempting to acquire the replacement book cost from passing citizens, explaining that I had turned a corner and realised that in some curcumstances a book, a 4 year old child and an enthusiastic terrier should not be permitted to commingle. I could have pointed out that said citizens ought to stump up because they would loose all future Bobby-Reading opportunity if they did not. I could have pointed out that things were crazy, there was a dog and a child and a book and we all did it do “whaddya gonna do?”. But, not being a remorseless sociopath, I wouldn’t dream of it.

The Anglo Book has been irrevocably chewed by a mongrel Tiger, Mr Lenihan. You owe us a copy of Bobby The Bunny Goes Leveraging. Also, could you keep the noise down? People are trying to live.

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