The Bard



The poet went to Blarney

his noble head upside down

kissing the stone of eloquence

that forever fired up his tongue.



He told amazing stories

reciting poems to learned people,

singing in the bar, a great experience

hearing a new storyteller's craic.



On a velvet sofa like Thomas Moore

on a tree stump or cozy corner

he told his tales; the forest showed

his fairy side and wish to shine.


Some say they hear a harp

when he regales them with words

and by his side children dart

like bees in the summertime



and raising his glass he stops to think

I'm king of myself and my audience;

They are my crown and I'm proud

to be a seanachie full of blarney.




seanachie - storyteller

craic - good convivial talk