Irish
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Raibh saol macánta
Bhí cónaí orainn, throid muid. Grá againn.
Ní raibh sé éasca, ach ba linne é
Linne
Now, it's theirs
We speak their language
We had to, they said, or we'll be punished
She sits on a stone wall, combing her hair;
Humming a tune old as time,
Familiar, yet no one knows it
Old and frail or young and beautiful
She is never the same twice
Gen’rally, as pirates go
There’s something that you ought to know
If you’re looking for some friendly sands,
Don’t winter down at Ireland
There’s a Scottish Scourge, by name MacCaddock
My mother was a white womanbut a woman, all the same.
For years, I never thought much of white womenIn fact, I didn’t think of them much.
On and on, the music flows,Through the fields of the Village Green.
On and on the music goes,The Irish sing and dance it home.
On and on the music flows,Down the valley to the village below.
In two thousand and six, my parents hit me with a kick
Leaving my home of green, rolling hills in Ireland
Moving across the ocean to this barren land of cowboys and lost dreams
Peep, slip under the surface tension. Dip, sail under the current's one-way mirror. I found your skin buried under the old yew. I fell in love with your form, your ocean grace. Mermaid of fur. Dog of my heart's ship; my ship's heart.
(poems go here) Its wakin’ up at five in the mornin’
Its doin’ jobs no one else will
Its goin’ hungry for the children’s sakes
Its doin’ your best to survive just to spite ‘em