The Agreement


Discontent and the tragedy of poverty

starve our bloody English history of

truth as the political tanks, soldier boys and

girls march past peace and hope. A simple

twist of fate and green bullets have masked a ceasefire and

nothing is left but blood and havoc to wreck a longing for

tolerance. See the defiance deep in Phoenix Park, religion

and farce unite while idle, drunk children spray paint

‘Fuck The Brits’ on pocked brick walls and

dear, old Louis sleeps twenty feet under.

‘Father Ted is a lovely old bloke but all priests are paedos’ and

confusion soaks ignorance and keeps rolling on.

Our Irish tradition is rich in Yeats, drenched in Bushmills.

The Maze, a legacy of famine, meaning

spuds sands dirty protest and a clean, fresh start.

An opportunity for murder at Enniskillen brought retribution

and a commitment to the legitimate suffering of ár fir.