Holy Ireland's dead and gone.
It's with Partition in the grave.
When that unbridled North comes on
it's force will be a tidal wave!
Far more than border roads will be unblocked.
Doors we thought forever closed will be unlocked.
Possibilities will open
which we'd long abandoned hope in,
and the pillars of the temple will be rocked.
No, the boisterous North will not be staying put.
They'll be spreading, they'll be wedding, they'll take root.
Neither Catholics nor Prods,
now a new race free of gods
will be springing up like daisies underfoot.
Orange Ireland's dead and gone,
it's with Partition in the grave.
Now that the hand-in-glove's withdrawn
the empty glove will not be brave.
Grave men will join Partition in the tomb.
Rave men will get a single padded room.
Brave women and brave men
will be just as needed then
to ease the calfling future from the womb.
Jeremiahs will be made to eat their hat.
Geriatrics won't be banning this and that.
Gerrymanders will be sent
where the pterodactyls went.
Gerry Adams and John Hume will see to that.
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©Renate Mitchell. May not be reproduced in any form online or offline without explicit written permission.