No Dancing From The Easter Sun
Musings in verse on the current issues of consent, and the Ulster Rugby scandal. The Scots Law judgement of “Not Proven” would be more appropriate, then letting them off scot free. The girl I feel sorry for.
No dancing from the Easter Sun
I had tried for years to see
The Full Moon went down in the West
But the Sun would not dance for me
As it did for my grandfather
In Aughagreagh all those years ago…
Perhaps your faith it must be strong
For such miracles to show…
I very much the lapsed Catholic
In the church am rarely seen
Yet as much as anyone
A Catholic I have been.
A helping hand, a kind word offered
A prayer said silent, the voice within,
I have murdered no body Ill admit to!
Committed the usual minor sin.
The Ireland of today, some has changed, yet little
The “ravaging” still goes on,
The woman will not get justice
People debate, read, and yawn.
The men still are the hero’s
Top shaggers, legends in their own mind,
The woman is told she is foolish
As innocent the accused the jury find.
This modern culture which encourages females
To be as wild, as bad as the men
Serves only men, not women
Who find themselves yet again
As objects for a mans desire
Who can invite his pals to join in:
The brassers as they call the girls
Shot stop silently within.
Old fools in their foolish way
Try to paternally advise
Knowing the risks, but not how to challenge them
Only manage to patronise.
Free Love in modern Ireland does not exist:
This is not the hippy dream…
This is every chavenists fantasy
Who plot, with glib words scheme…
We do not want to go back to the world of yesterday
Where girls were badged with shame
But we need a bit of the honour
Of the Ireland of old from which we came.
It starts at home, honour, respect, consent
Nothing sexual if either are inebriated
If possible in a relationship of sorts,
If not, at least known to each other, their love celebrated.
Or lust, or whatever it is,
Friends with benefits, who for each other care…
Anything is better then the subculture
That exists today outthere.
The lads in their heads are legends…
I hope some of her menfolk find
The legends in some dark alley…
Of the girl and the night they bring to mind!
Where will we be in a hundred years?
What will happen to society?
Will no one care of right and wrong
Think old fashioned rhyming fools like me?
Did the sun dance in the sky this morning
For some old person of strong faith before mass?
I know not as I walk home from work
Silent stranger nods hello as I pass…