Contents:

·         Cat

·         Caterpillar

·         Christmas When

·         Frankie Wankie

·         Junira Nations

·         Approaching Twenty

·         Mná

·         Joan Maguire

·         My Love Bites

·         Lily White Breast

·         Alan Mullally’s Song (Now I’m Leaving)

·         The Hero

·         Kim Bassinger’s Diet

·         Statue

·         The Great God Pan

·         Worms

·         Spare a Thought

·         Resolution

·         Jimmy Loves Mary

·         Books

·         In Slattery’s

·         Krunchy and Milady

·         The Da

·         The Great Six-O

·         My Garden

·         Female Modes of Dress (or The Miniskirt)

·         Good Morning

·         The Dance in the Village Hall

·         Typing Section

·         Vacant Mood

·         Do You Yen for a Feel

·         Obsessed

·         Silver Wedding

·         Corrakit

·         The Civil Servant

·         The New Daughter of Houlihan

·         Mayo in July

·         Home Computers

·         Lewinsky

·         Jacussy

·         Tit Shaking

·         Paddy Macaroni

·         Hour on a Bean

The Outrageous Poems of Krunchie Killeen:

LILY WHITE BREAST

(To the air of Bríd Óg Ní Mháille, slightly modified)

With each breath of my breathing

Of you I'm surely dreaming,

For my heart and my mind

They are never at rest.

As distracted forth I sally,

I am blind to hill and valley,

For all I see before me

Is your lily-white breast.

O God, your lily-white breast!

Obsessed with my love's beauty

I neglect my chores and duty.

The rose and the lily

In her cheeks do contest.

A delicate rose petal

Is the lip that tests my metal,

And the rose, it forms a crown

On her lily-white breast.

O God, her lily-white breast!

I've forsaken my own father,

I've forsaken my mother;

I've forsaken my brother

And all of the rest.

By her charms I am so taken

My very God I have forsaken;

And it's all for the sake of

Her lily-white breast.

O God, her lily-white breast!

You people of great learnin'

Know how Paris fought for Helen.

Well, I understand the passion

With which he was possessed.

For I'd truly drive a skewer

Through the heart of any boor

Who would try to prise my hand from

Her lily-white breast.

Yes, I’d truly drive a skewer

Through the heart of any boor

Who would try to prise my hand from

Her lily-white breast.

Copyright

You may copy the poems for your own amusement, but you may not distribute or perform any poem publicly or for reward until you have obtained my consent.

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