Ode to Big Mouth
Ode to Big Mouth
John Paul Valentino
I've no luck with the beours, so I said I'd give it a whirl
Internet dating - to try and find me a girl,
So this wan sends an email and asked could I meet her,
She'd never been down to Cork and could I possibly treat her,
To a day seeing the sights, that was the extent of her ploy,
Says I, "that's no hassle - sure there's no better boy"
So I took her to Shandon to have a go off the bells,
Convinced that she'd fall under the liar's old spells,
When we got to the top she said she didn't get all the fuss,
And that she had more fun coming down to Cork on the bus.
The doubts were setting in, slightly west of my hopes,
But my interest perked up when she pulled on those ropes.
The musical sounds belted out round the city,
I watched as she tugged and to be fair she looked pretty.
A few roars from below, suddenly grabbed my attention
It appeared that the sound, from the bells had caused tension.
"Don't ye know this is Cork" roared a face all aglow,
As a crowd of Cork men began to gather below.
I knew there was a clang. A sort of God awful drone,
Sure she'd been playing sounds of Dublin - it was Molly Malone,
"Sorry about that t'wont happen again", I roared back.
Fearful this infidel they would lynch and attack.
Out to Blarney I took her, I'm in my heart I'm a purist,
Trying to find the right balance between hanging out and a tourist.
We went out to the castle and I showed her the Stone,
but she seemed to have more interest in sending texts from her phone,
But when I showed her the method then she got all excited,
Finally something had got us united,
She grabbed on to my arm and moved her head back,
Then pushed with her lips to give the stone an aul smack,
Then suddenly she howled and ceased up with the fright,
When realising she was suspended from a considerable height.
Her knuckles turned white and her thoughts became manic,
And she wouldn't let go of the bars in the panic,
When the fire brigade left she wouldn't look at me straight,
Believing I played a trick and put her into this state,
So I thought to myself as she moaned and complained,
That no Cork man could cope no matter how hard he trained,
I bit my lip firm, I couldn't let my thoughts become known
So I took her to the Pairc where Cloyne were playing Erin's Own.
"What's this game", she said, "it's frightfully violent"
At this stage now, I was gone red from staying silent.
"The greatest game on Earth" I said, as the crowd started to sing,
"Played by such greats as the bauld Christy Ring"
I was afraid of my life that the crowd behind us would hear her,
Diplomatically trying to make the situation a bit clearer.
"Its just like hockey" she said even louder this time,
"Except with that strangely shaped stick not half as sublime".
Next thing there's some action near the place where we're seated,
So I'm thinking, to a close up of great skill we'd be treated,
But Sully pulled a bit hard and the next thing we're all diving,
As the sliothar goes astray all's on our minds is surviving,
But like a gowl, this old doll - despite her long lecture,
Thought she'd turned into a full back - though I tried to protect her,
She thought she could catch it, but her hands were too weak,
The ball burst past her claw and ended up in her beak.
Like Ronan Curran, she thought, from the air she could pluck
The sliothar that was now wedged in her gob - firmly stuck.
The crowd howled out with laughter when she turned 'round like a gimp,
She looked like some quare one and I was her pimp!
I tugged on the ball but to her jaw it was rooted,
And to be honest I was glad because it was keeping her muted,
So I shrugged my shoulders and to the game I returned,
No doubt a few lessons here in Cork she had learned.
If you're knocking the Rebels be wide when you're out,
Don't talk too much or you'll get one in the mouth!