Tag Archives: Ireland
I fell down a waterfall; that is a fact,
I fell down a waterfall, where were you at?
To have missed such a thing a long time ago?
When I fell into that water, it was ever so cold.
I almost died on that day; a terrible shock,
When the icy cold waters sniggered and mocked,
Bringing me closer to that hole in the ground,
Six feet under in a box coloured brown.
This is a TRUE story!
Last week, the Irish people had to endure another session of nauseating back-slapping when the IMF chief, Christine Lagarde hailed them heroes as she was cheered on by her tea boys and girl, Enda, Brendan and Joan and her “good friend, Michael.”
The Irish people are not heroes, but victims of a corrupt banking system and of financial treason perpetrated by developers, speculators and a self-serving, uncaring political class. Debts were undemocratically foisted onto the shoulders of present and future generations.
Ms Lagarde should have been turned back at the airport. She is a financial ‘hit-man’ for the IMF and its cohorts, whose remit is the upward redistribution of wealth and the ‘theft’ (privatisation) of public assets, infrastructure and resources.
Instead of asking Joan Burton about the women of Irish society, Ms Lagarde (who does not pay tax on her €400,000 salary) should have vacated the luxurious surroundings of government buildings and walked amongst the people.
That experience would have given her food for thought before she jetted off to Davos (the international version of the Galway tent), where she was meeting up with the wealthiest people in the world.
Ms Lagarde’s position and that of Government, consists of shameful deceit and spin in convincing the Irish people that the banking debt is theirs.
The Irish people were betrayed and those in the golden circle were protected.
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Harolodstown Dolmen sits quite in a field,
Alone and uncared for adrift from the real,
From the life we consider so important, though rushed,
Yet it will be there when we’re gone, when we’re hushed.
Older than pyramids and older than sea,
Haroldstown Dolmen contained and yet free,
It’s neighbous are cattle, some sheep and a goat,
Blissfully unaware of its significant note.
It’s a place of sanctitude, a place to set free,
Your mind and your spirit, your heart and your chi,
To rest for a while away from the rush,
Of everyday life and of everyday fuss.
Some tourists do seek it out now and then,
Taking a photo or two then moving on again,
Perhaps one day it will be known far and near,
As the dolmen of sanctitude; a place so rare.
I am your leader, he said, snarling at us,
The prime minister of Ireland, now what’s all the fuss,
I gave you some cheese – and a whole lot at that,
You should be grateful, you scurrilous brats!
We don’t want your cheese, we answered – and quick,
We want money in our pockets, not cheap little tricks,
Give your cheese to the bankers, and try some yourself,
Perhaps it will choke you; then we can govern ourselves.
(You know it makes sense,
And if it doesn’t make sense,
It’s a load of nonsense).
Cheese, cheese, good for your heart,
The more you eat, the longer you’ll last,
The longer you last, the more taxes you’ll pay,
Eat cheese every day.
Eurovision 1970 Ireland
Dana – All kinds of everything
Potholes from Hell
When I am out driving my car,
I love my car; it’s a fine old car,
I watch the road ahead,
The road ahead, for potholes ahead,
Irish roads are a disgrace,
It’s a pothole place – a dangerous place!
While out walking the street,
On my two feet, my own two feet,
I fell into a pothole big,
Very big – extremely big,
It broke my face, my poor old face,
It’s a shocking disgrace!
I wrote to the Council,
And told them this, that I hurt myself,
In a pothole big – extremely big,
They said me, poor old me,
They would sell me the stuff,
The pothole stuff,
So I could fill them in,
The potholes in,
It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?
Ireland is a cesspit,
Mired by bankers’ waste,
Brought down by their corruption,
Destroyed – and with such haste.
Where, oh where is the justice,
To punish these men of shame,
To make THEM pay for what they did,
Why aren’t THEY held to blame?
Why is it us, the average man,
And woman who takes the pain?
What did WE do, to be punished so,
We are CERTAINLY not to blame.
I think it’s all a part of some,
Big plan by those up high,
To take control of the world’s affairs,
To enslave us until we die.
You might laugh me, and say I’m mad,
Thinking such things – and how,
But the day will come; you’ll see that I’m right,
I only wish you’d see it now.
I say remove those jerks, those men in suits,
Each and every one,
Politicians too; they are just as bad,
Don’t rest until they are all gone.
Let’s start a New World Order, I say,
In which we, the people, soar high,
Where we can live in peace and wealth,
Unchained from corrupt men’s lies.
This day will come, make no mistake,
Men in suits, bereft of sense,
You will be punished, held accountable,
You’ll get your comeuppance!