There's an isle nearby with a glint in its eye
Where the people shoot a sharp wit tongue
It's cobbled mean streets
House lyrical treats
There, lessons in rhythm start young
The mark of it's men is a magic with the pen
And a firebrand limitless lilt
With stories so tall
The writing's on the wall
Ever churning out scribes full tilt
The banter flies best just a little to the west
You'll be locked in it's manifold charm
Thick riveting fiction, warm and rich and
Threaded on strings of yarn
'Tis a blessing not a test
To discover one is blessed
With a penchant for the Gaelic weave
When they wanna get heard
Yond Wizard of the Word's
Worn gaily on the clan-tweed sleeve
Heaney, Clarke, Joyce
They never had a choice
All born into a mould long set
Sheridan and Yeats came crashing through the gates
And the party's still in full swing yet
Gary Allen, Sean Dunne
Both like bullets from a gun
Oscar Wilde put the venom in verse
They'll rip it up and wreck it
Ol' Samuel Beckett
Was indebted to the Limerick curse
Roscommon's Grace Rhys
Could pen a hearty piece
Maeve Kelly is a County Clare breeze
Need y'ask why the queue is round the block for C.S.Lewis
Joseph Fogerty and Marian Keyes ?
The Salesman is an honour
From your man Joseph O'Connor
The Commitments is a hoot by Roddy Doyle
It's a certain kinda fellow who can knock out All Looks Yellow
R.I.P Ballymoney's Paddy Boyle
Ireland makes books
Stories welded with hooks
That pull you in and never let go
It's clever, quick and quaint
You either got it or you ain't
Such proclivity's a fruit you can't grow
They pass it down the line
So even Father Time
Bows low to Mother Nature's child
No free flying bird
Can ensconce the absurd
More capricious than a germ this wild
Pray we never grow lean of a people so keen
To be taking up the narrative reins
You wouldn't kill it if you could
Green ditty-riddled blood
Strong coursing through the celtic veins
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