“Twas Just The Irish In Me”

“Twas Just The Irish In Me”

by Hugh A Tague 

 

It started much like any other day.

Stretching, I let out a great yawn.

My hounds bolted outside to play

As a marmalade sun cracked the dawn.

 

It was an early brunch for me:

Bangers, eggs and a bit of bread.

Then a short walk next to the sea,

Stopping in town to make right my head.

 

I cheerfully shuffled into Paddy’s Pub.

The keep poured me a pint of Guinness.

A gracious few had gathered in the club:

Just Helen, Hugh and his brother Innis.

 

Then a voice unfamiliar to my ear

asked me why I was not wearing the green.

I said, “Anyone know who is this here?

St. Paddy’s police, or so it would seem.”

 

He knew right off he had misspoke.

To this stranger I had nothing to prove.

Still, an answer his question did evoke.

An Irish gentleman shouldn’t be rude.

 

Loosing my belt, I rose from my chair,

Dropping my trousers for all to see.

Helen’s face turned as red as her hair,

My knickers were a brilliant green.

 

I turned a bit, so Helen couldn’t see

Taking the stranger’s empty glass,

Brandishing my God- given Irish shillelagh,

Filling it with pee as green as grass.

 

I left little for the stranger’s mind to doubt.

A St. Paddy’s Day miracle he had just seen.

On his way out he bought me a stout.

Nothing is sweeter than a pint that is free.

 

Once he was gone, my friends had to ask.

I said, “It’s really quite simple you see:

Last week my legs held water like casks.

The pills from my Doctor make me pee green.”

 

I made them promise that day in the pub,

“My friends, this secret we must keep.

If the visitor ever comes back to the club

Say only:  ‘Twas Just The Irish In Me.’ ”

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Author: Hugh A Tague

I love to read and write poetry and prose

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