Why I want to be Irish
Is not because of St Patrick’s Day
When beer flows like the Liffey
Through the gorges of man
I don’t want to be Irish
To walk on rainbows and hide my wealth
On the underside of paint strips
After all how can a 190 cm man
Be a minature leprechaun
I’m no Irish because of my faith
Nor do I want to play cricket
For a national team or the world cup
Or wear heels for my river dance
And be tap dancer for a day
I’m no Collins or De Valera
I hold no place in history
I just want to be Irish, to “be in clover”
To be carefree in verse and be my own wanderer
On Yeats’s footpaths
As the rag and bone poet
Selling untapped words
As scraps of free verse.


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