Aliens Landed in Ballykillduff
By Gerrard Wilson (with a touch of cosmic mischief)
They landed one night in a field of rough stuff,
By the boggy back lanes of Ballykillduff.
Their saucer was spinning, all silver and green,
And lit up the cow shed like no one had seen!
Auld Paddy O’Toole, with his flask full of tea,
Was out walking Biddy (his prize-winning ewe, you see).
He stared at the lights, then exclaimed with a cough,
“By Jaysus and Mary—would ye turn that thing off?!”
The hatch hissed open, a ramp clanked down slow,
Out shuffled a creature all covered in glow.
It had three long fingers and seventeen eyes—
But wore wellies and said, “What a glorious sunrise!”
They tried to milk tractors, they fed stones to sheep,
And one kissed a donkey then fell fast asleep.
The postman near fainted when one tried to sing—
“Your radio’s broken!” it said, doing a fling.
They asked for our leader. We offered them Breda,
Who runs the wee shop and makes a fine feeder.
She gave them some Taytos, a carton of milk,
And a scarf she had knitted from Martian-spun silk.
The aliens danced at the Bally Hall ceilidh,
They jived and they jigged and they floated quite gaily.
Then they packed up their bits in a shimmering puff—
And vanished once more from Ballykillduff.
Now no one believes us (as is often the case),
Though we’ve three melted sheep and a crop circle face.
But Paddy swears true, as he finishes his snuff:
“The best craic I’ve seen—was in Ballykillduff.”
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 