Beannachtaí na féile oraibh! I have two Paddy's Day poems in my (un)vast repertoire and the one below was written as part of a project some years ago which I forget the exact details of. Let it suffice to say that the photo that was sent to me by the artist as inspiration featured a large, ugly, mannequin-like doll.
Have a lovely spud- and Cadbury's choc-fuelled day. That's what I have in mind. With a side-order of the local parade to view kids #2 and #3 marching.
Saint Patrick’s Day, Achill Island
‘Jamesie,’ she says to me, from the chair,
‘put the green frock on me today,
I’m feeling powerful festive.’
‘I will, Dolly,’ says I, ‘it’s the one colour
that brings up the gold in your hair.’
‘Don’t cod me,’ she roars, ‘the hair’s a disaster.’
We settle down, watch the parade on RTÉ,
and drink six bottles of porter apiece.
‘This is the life, Dolly, hah?’ I say,
but there isn’t a gug out of her;
all I hear are gulls and the hum-thrum
of a tractor going down the boreen.