A little piece of Eire

I hear the tin whistle blowing,
Over 200 strong clapping hands.
Pints of bulmer’s, lager and porter,
being passed to all the football fans!

Laughter, roaring and banter,
Echoing through the old oaken’ gin mill.
Paraphernalia and pictures of times long ago,
Hanging from every roof beam and sill.

The banjo starts banging,
the accordion strikes loud and clear!
Patrons jump to their feet,
Twirling, kicking and full of cheer!

Bottles pile up on the tables of teak,
drinks are spilt on the cobblestone floor.
The elderly men in the corner,
Telling tales and stories and sometimes, more!!

Tourists start cheering and havin a laugh,
they start joining in on a traditional sing-song.
Singing of an Ireland once long ago
of which most irelanders’ dearly long.

Locals ask, “What’s da craic?”
And you quickly reply,
That, “the craic is mighty,
not a word of a lie!”


Inspired by my trip to Ireland which opened my eyes to a small country so rich with historical value it’s hard to believe how “young” Australia really is.