Twas the night before Christmas,
when all thro’ the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
In government buildings Brian Cowen was aghast,
it looked like the tables were turning at last;
Taoiseach by default, the fat lad was bawling,
while everyone else thought him just plain appalling.
Department of Finance, Brian Lenihan’s lair,
a place quite as false as his Just-for-Men® hair;
tough choices were needed, and he wouldn’t fudge it,
he’d fuck us all up with the upcoming budget.
The Greens had the chance to show they had morals,
instead they preferred to rest on their laurels;
they say cometh the man, then cometh the hour,
John Gormley he came, forgot honor, chose power.
The banks they were broke so we gave them a dig-out,
they said ‘thanks a lot’ and continued to pig-out;
huge wages, big bonus and subterfuge loans,
are still going on despite public moans.
The property market continued to crash,
developers lost their big bundles of cash;
in a normal place this would be news of high drama,
but we saved all their arses with that poxy old NAMA.
Meanwhile in Knock there are strange goings on,
and pilgrims they flock as they long to belong;
the virgin appears, they have so much fun,
until they discover they’re blind from the sun.
Murphy and Ryan provide frightening dish-ups,
about paedophile priests and whitewashing bishops;
we know all the facts, how it all came to pass,
but the faithful support them as they go to mass.
The unions are fuming, the poor public sector,
pension levies and pay cuts, they constantly hector;
but sympathy fades, the people grow tired,
of index linked pensions when they’ve just been fired.
Pat Kenny retired, no more the Late, Late,
Something different required, something new, something great;
Instead we got Ryan, the pencil necked geek,
who bores us to tears, Late, Late week after week.
Our dear old friend Bertie releases a book,
more cash in the bank for the stuttering crook;
‘PS, I hate you’ he’d probably cry,
when he realised most of us wish he’d just die.
The people of Ireland are tired of recession,
so much bad news leaves an awful impression;
the country’s in shit, we’re so sick of it all,
but can only protest after one French handball.
The news is pure grim, “It’s just like the 80s!!!”,
I think it’s much worse, I’m afraid to say, mateys.
Despite those who think we can get through and make it,
we Irish continue to lube up and take it.
The government’s crap, the economy’s flat,
Cowen puckers and bleats like a blubbery brat;
The alternative’s Enda, it’s a very sad day-0,
when Ireland’s last chance is that tweebag from Mayo.
—-
Like I keep saying, it’s tradition (2004, 2005, 2006, 2007)
A cracker of a poem Twenty. Really enjoyed that, despite the grim message
Excellent work…
Only cunts write poems
was wonderin why why the blog was late
Great stuff,but I take Peadars point! Just an aside and as I know you and many of your contributors have no love of the catholic church and as I sent off a letter of defection today in protest or rather because `count me out` have made it easy peasy I was wondering have you or any of the regular contributors here already taken that step. I ask this fully aware of the theocratic educatioal system there which may deter many parents to take this option but I moved to France so my kids could have a true republican education, the fact that the missus is French helped of course.I`d be interested in feedback negative or positive
Ronnie (not real name) is that you?
*much applause* Twenty. A fine effort indeed. A+ top of the class, take a sweet out of the jar.
Yes its me(not my real name), is that you holemaster?
Very good. Except the last bit. Enda Kenny is not a dishonest cunt like all the FF members are.
I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s great and all, but I just can’t be arsed, I think it’s something to do with those people who used to make up birthday songs for their relatives on the Late Late or summat
The situation of a country gone from bad to verse.
Yer on the ball there itchy.
A shower of ignorant complacent cunts (electorate) left a visionless self laudatory cunt from Drumcondra bribe them with there own money which they borrowed from the Germans.
And then get annoyed over a poxy match!
Good to have the priorities fixed.
Not bad at all.
Not sure what the problem is with Enda Kenny. He was the only Party Leader with enough backbone to say that anyone mentioned in the Murphy Report should resign.
Kudos!
maybe it’s not a poem.Could we call it something else
Great ode….worth the wait
Ah well done Frank, an Ode. Does that mean twenty isn’t a cunty poet?
Thats really funny twenty, but for a real laugh check this out. pure comedy
http://www.catholicireland.net/
well, he’s less gay anyway, that’s for sure
is he a bad ode-er…
geebag would work better than tweebag?
Well, he’s very twee, isn’t he? That’s kinda the point. Not saying he’s a fiddling, corrupt cunt like FFers.
Just totally bland and uninspiring.
bula bus (or however its spelt!)
Christmas, Bah Humbug, stick that mistletoe up your arse.
Maggot likes rimming.
Jaysus, 3 days to come up with that crap?
The budget Tug?
I was wondering where you were yesterday Twenty…I like it…:)
“Jaysus, 3 days to come up with that crap?”
I’d demand me money back Tug, did you keep the receipt?
Excellent, Twenty.
I believe Bish Murray’s over in Rome singing A Teste Fidelis to the pope.
Luckily, I switched off after only 2 or 3 stanzas… I think twenty charges by the metre…
rimming?
Mistletoe up your ass. Get it? Get it?
Nope. I’m from the sticks and a prod. Is it a big city cafflick thing ?
It wasn’t very funny to begin with and now it’s just dull, but here you go.
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