Kicking back, feet up
Back in the thick of it, belly up.
Aching leg & stuffed belly
Donuts, chocolate mousse, ice-cream & jelly.
Enter Daragh & enter Titch
Here I sit, how the lads love to bitch.
Not a word, the TV is on
They’re in the zone that the TV has won.
What are we watching, it’s Agatha Christie
Glamour, crime & lots of mystery.
A Monday in February, the weather’s being cruel
As I deliver these lines, the temperature is cool.
I run into Mark Plant, he’s on sticks
Hobbling about, his knee needs to be fixed.
Mark’s the town crier, he delivers the news
Who’s shagging who & the rest as it brews.
I have a run in with Michael, tell him to fuck off, he departs with noisy tears
He’s a big baby grouch, never stops & he’s bad for my ears!
No sign of Anto, perhaps he’s hit the hay
Or scored some green & gone upstairs to play.
Speak of the devil, Anto appears
He’s a good soul, known him years & years.
An early night beckons, with candlelight & rest
Níl aon tínteán mar do thínteán féin & all the best!
Faith In The Ripple Effect 