Joyce of the Market

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The Pinkerettes

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You were once called a country of potato diggers 
And most of your fun was drinking and cattle raids. 
Your cycle of life was suffering, endurance, destruction And coffin ships sailing across the great sea. 
 
Like Polish folk you fought against your opressor 
But your blunderbuss was helpless against the red coats 
And like Polish folk you caught the patriotic virus 
And you have your worthies burried in Pere Lachese. 
 
But your bondage drowned in the Irish sea 
And the shamrock now reigns imperial 
And because you traded the Scotch for double Irish 
You are tycoons of the Western world 
You’ve eaten the salmon of knowledge and ingested the oil 
And you hardened your tormented Joyce into the joys of the market. 
 
No longer druids, but an island of saints and scholars 
Like Polish folk you put on the popish cloak 
You had your country governed by encyclicals 
And bishop McQuaid trying to stop a football match. 
 
One of your parties even got excommunicated 
And your men of the cloth were bringing governments down 
Like Polish Commies your Church had a „special position” 
Under your own not so romantic 44. 
 
But then your daily mores were decriminalised 
And the Irish harp now sings of freedom 
And corporate horns are blaring Resurrection 
And the migrant tide is turning back 
You’ve eaten the salmon of knowledge and ingested the oil 
And you hardened your tormented Joyce into the joys of the market.

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