enraptured by a fall of stout
before the barkeep in this place;
myself with legends, some of the greats.
handle's down for to let pass
a stormy dream from brass to glass
place is packed with gal 'n gent
round tables live with merriment.
Parnell and Collins here now and chewin.
it's in their glass a storm is brewin.
there's Father O'neil,Tom Meagher and Tone.
while in the corner with Maude Gonne
Yeats is working on his Easter poem.
watch Christie Moore and Bob O'Dylan
click two pints and start to chillin
as just in from the land of free
is Clinton, Curley and the Kennedys.
Willie Shakespeare has been known to scrawl
his lengthy poems upon the wall.
and Christ himself tis said came out
when the favored brew was running out
and told the keep: "pour them more stout!"
Coleman of course has hand to bow
and Paddy Carty has flute to blow
Bono and Van the man bang in
with a blind guy named O'Carolan.
now the piper Keenan's about to start
when a sudden gust gives crowd to part
and standin there with staff in hand
is the saint who chased snakes from the land.
his beard is long; his bare feet dirty
convertin druid's made his throat all thirsty...
...now a jarring jar upon the bar
might remind some one of whom they are.
but just fore this is takin place
it's up there speaks Jim Joyce to Yeats
"A Drink this Good is worth the Wait."