The Ballykillduff Banger (A Ballad of Mad Jimmy)
(Verse 1) In Ballykillduff, where the grass is so green, Lived a man named Jimmy McGroggan, the wildest ever seen! They called him “Mad Jimmy”, but not for bad grace, He once tried to heat up the entire whole place! With a kettle and toaster, and a spring from a peg, He wasn’t quite right from the waist to the leg! He was just inventive, you see, a mechanical nut, Like a squirrel who stores nuts in a lawnmower’s gut!
(Chorus) Oh, the Ballykillduff Banger, a sight for sore eyes, A chariot of junk, underneath Irish skies! A mobile compost heap and a Transformer blue, Mad Jimmy’s creation, for me and for you! It’s got a wee wobble, it’s got a small cough, But when he got going, the wheel just fell off!
(Verse 2) Jimmy had a dream, not of riches or fame, But to drive a fine motor and utter its name! Now, banks made him sneeze and the law made him frown, So he built his own car from the junk of the town! The lads in the pub put their money down fast, They bet his poor shed wouldn’t properly last. His garden, a scrapyard, a magpie’s delight, With half a fridge, a pram, and a bathtub painted: “CURSED! DO NOT SIT TIGHT!”
(Verse 3) The chassis was bunk beds, all twisted and old, The engine from a lawnmower, the tale must be told! Four wheels he found, two from a trolley so bright, One from a wheelie bin, one from a unicycle‘s might! The steering wheel? Ah, a dinner plate grand, Glued fast to the shaft of a Dyson in hand! The horn was a bicycle bell, gave a “meep” when it cared, And the seat was a toilet with a cushion prepared!
(Chorus) Oh, the Ballykillduff Banger, a sight for sore eyes, A chariot of junk, underneath Irish skies! A mobile compost heap and a Transformer blue, Mad Jimmy’s creation, for me and for you! It’s got a wee wobble, it’s got a small cough, But when he got going, the wheel just fell off!
(Bridge) Sunday morning arrived, the townsfolk all near, Father Dunne kept his distance, quite sheltered by fear! Jimmy put on his goggles (a sieve with some film), The engine went “brrrrrrr” like a goat in a chill! He shot down the hill, then he spun to the side, Right into the hen house where Seamus’s chickens reside! Jimmy popped out the hole, with a feather on top, “She handles like a dream! Full of terror and POP!”
(Verse 4) They made a repair, added the bathtub as a seat, A microwave door for the glass, isn’t that neat? He tried one more time, on a hill stiff and steep, He made it just seven feet, then fell fast asleep! ‘Cause the wheel took a runner and flew down the slope, Chased by a child, a dog, and Father Dunne shouting: “NOPE! It’s heading for the Sacristy, oh dear, dear, dear!”
(Outro) Now the Banger is parked, an exhibit for sure, Tourists take selfies beside the front door. But Jimmy sits in it each Friday at dark, Sippin’ tea from a spark plug, just having a lark! Hands on the dinner plate, engine noises he’ll make, “Best car that I owned!” for goodness’ sweet sake! And smoke rises gently from somewhere amiss, But nobody tells him, they just nod and they kiss! Ah, nobody tells him otherwise!
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 