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Wednesday, 16 November 2011

September 2008 (reworking of W.B. Yeats September 1913)

Obviously, I am not going to attempt to take credit for this - I found this in the MetroHerald newspaper letters section on the 14th of November, penned by a kid who calls himself W.B. Mates. If you don't know the original composition, please see here but this re-working of the classic rings close to home. Very clever though!

When will this country ever come to sense,
As bankers still fumble in a greasy till
As Ireland's debt adds the half-billion to the billion
And more tax to less spending,
Until they have dried the marrow from the bone;
For it's only the banks back we save;
The Celtic Tiger is dead and gone,
It's with Anglo in the grave.

They were of the same kind,
The names that sicken the country to the core,
They have gone hiding about the world like cowards,
And what little price they now have to pay
But left it to the people of Ireland and their young,
And now, God help us, what can we save?
The Celtic Tiger is dead and gone,
It's with Anglo in the grave.

Is it for this our emigrants' wings spread
As the dole queues grow every time?
For this that the poorest now suffer?
Because of bankers' lies,
Along with Fianna Fáil and their golden circle of friends,
All that delirium of the greedy!
The Celtic Tiger is dead and gone,
It's with Anglo in the grave.

If only we could turn the years again,
And get Ireland back as it were
In all its ghost-estate-free land,
Before all that easy credit
Had maddened everyone.
Back when banks considered what loans they gave.
But let it be, it's dead and gone,
It's with Anglo in the grave.

Moral of the Story - I think it speaks for itself really.

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