March 17th 2016 (Paddy’s Day Parade)

by Brendan Strong

Someone’s over at Paddy’s house, but Paddy’s at the parade
Someone’s over at Paddy’s house, walking around the place.
Would they be mortified if the burglars find the nineties grunge and rave CDs?
What about all the DVDs they haven’t watched since their twenties?
Or the photos from exotic places they travelled (pre kids) in their thirties?
What about the toys? Will they destroy so many Christmas and birthday memories?

 

Get on the phone and call the gardai* – someone’s over at Paddy’s house, see
And there’s no reason for them to be. Sure no one’s even there to be seen.
Are they chancing their arm going in today – to pick over their things in peace?
Going through the door with no one to face, because everyone’s at the parade today!
I’m going over to show them my face – tell them they’ve no right to sack the place!

But they’re coming back out, and changing the locks – I have to ask: “What the fuck?”
Why are they changing the locks to Paddy’s house?

And the gardai come at last, between the man and me.
But they tell me I’m the one they’ve come to see?
“Move along now, there’s nothing here to see – It’s all been told to Paddy.”

What’s been told to Paddy?
How can any of this be?
You can’t just come and take his home!
He’s only at the parade –
could you not phone?

“No need to be hostile sir, the warrant is here in front of me:
Repossession of the family home, on account of mortgage arrears.”

 

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*Note for non-Irish people, “gardai” is pronounced Gar-Dee.

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