Irish

Irish

That the Irish cite the Potato Famine,
Cause for over-indulgence we must examine.
Is such outrageous claim valid reasoning,
Or mental salad with no intellectual seasoning?
Temptation is high for some Irish Soda Bread,
But I then remember I must stretch my head.
To see past my stomach to the floor,
I guess I better not eat anymore.
However, I must cross the line,
To be creative I must sip some wine.
While this poetry is the worst ever,
One glass and I believe it is instead quite clever.
Returning to my original conjecture,
Irish over-indulge and get a wive’s lecture.
We are the poor descendants of the potato mess,
Not acknowledged for our victimness no less.
So the Irish plod on through fields of peat,
Pained by their victimness in each Soda Bread they eat.
When it comes to justice the world is without,
So it’s fine to drink a fourth Guinness Stout.

James Wharton
Copyright



James Wharton
Copyright