eire's sons and daughters
have taut and terrific legs
from vigorous irish dancing
they were born under shamrocks
down by the sally gardens
where the leprechauns found them
their tall tales legendary
when irish eyes are smiling
the green beer will be flowing
when a girl is called kathleen
danny boy wants to take her home again
never underestimate the irish
she - a distraught
message in a bottle
floundering
in a vast sea of aloneness
he became her rock
her lighthouse
a touch stone to the norm
always within reach
she loved him
in the way
persephone loved hades
careful to leave
a trail of pomegranate seeds
to find a way back to him
no matter how many times
she tried to escape
female genital mutilation
happening daily in the third world
as i write
even in the western suburbs of sydney
the law goes soft turning a blind eye
fear of cultural insensitivity
when a girl child was born
my grandmother used to cross herself
and ask for a special blessing
i never knew why
i never asked why
as i trudged the path of life
now i know why
freedom equality and justice for women
will only happen with women
being bold, supporting their sisters
demanding and fighting for rights and justice
the real men
the ones who love and respect women will join them
being bold, supporting them
demanding and fighting for equal rights and justice
hand in hand
if you know or own
one of these old white geezas
stick this placard in his hand
on his way to the shops
(smiles)
the pasty crescent moon
peeped over the clouds
on a quiet evening
all the city noise filtered
in the distance
she stood on the ledge
watching the waves
bubbling like a stew
throwing her emerald ring
into the ocean
cringing at the thought
of her very exotic jailer
When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When Blood is nipped and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who; Tu-whit, tu-whoo: a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who; Tu-whit, tu-whoo: a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
