Chuck (charlesofcamden) wrote,
Chuck
charlesofcamden

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Bragging on myself

With St. Patrick’s Day approaching, the Chicago Tribune decided to conduct a contest to write an Irish pub song. You didn’t have to write the music; just the lyrics. The winner would have his or her lyrics set to music and recorded by a local Irish musician, and they’d post the sound clip on the Tribune web site.

Now I wouldn’t have even known about the contest except that meryddian saw the article and, knowing of my occasional compulsive need to write silly bits of verse, she forwarded the article to me. In a few days time, I had composed two entries. Well guess what . . . I didn't win. BUT I did make honorable mention along with 5 other local wordsmiths. If you'd like to read the article, which appears in the Sunday March 12 Tribune, as well as the other finalists and the winner, just click right here. Otherwise, you can see my entry just below:

The Wake of Seamus O'Shea
I’ll tell of the passing of Seamus O’Shea.
He’d tell it himself were he with us today.
His wake was a day that was lovely and fair.
If I hadn’t got sober, I might still be there.

We filled up our glasses and filled up our plates.
We toasted his health, just a few days too late.
We called off the roll and went round the room
To see how much money he’d owed, and to whom.

His Catherine was there, and their children as well.
They got to meet Seamus’ wife, Annabelle.
We thanked the mortician for putting a grin
On Seamus’ face; there’s your wages of sin!

So the Rev’rend came up, said a sad invocation,
Checked Seamus’ pockets for one last donation,
Found nothing but lint, so the Reverend sighed,
“It’s between him and God now, I’m stepping aside.”

The sun was arising, the wake had to end.
We tried to remember why he’d been our friend.
From there in his coffin, it seemed Seamus beckoned.
If he hadn’t been dead, we’d have killed him that second.

But soon our affection for him became clearer.
You want to know who he was, look in the mirror.
He drank and he lied, and he cheated and drank.
So for living, and dying, it’s Seamus we thank!
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