Won't feel it 'til Christmas luveen

School’s out, sleeps in,

Spanish students, crawlin with tourists.

Film Fleadhers pour from screens, pale faced,

Mesmerised, squinty eyed.


Clather of tractors, windows wide open,

Beds all stripped, ‘great bit a’ dryin’.

Scrapin paint, powerhosin walls

Ronsealin fences, strimmin hedges.


Balin hay, weedin beds,

Swarmin with midges, pollen eyes.

Hard boiled eggs, jars of beetroot

BBQ burgers, pint bottle Bulmers.


Blackrock bravado Tower tumbles_

Biceps and tri swimmers, Prom prowlers.

Tattoos galore, queues at The Galleon,

Sliotars pelted on hard sand.


Paddlin in pools, HB in wafers,

Scalded shoulders, squintin at matches.

Longue tongued dogs, sleepless nights,

All-Ireland final out of sights.


Horses and hats, rain pissin down,

Tall heeled ladies in maxis

Queues for buses, ne’er a taxi

Races all over, ‘won’t feel it till Christmas!’.


Students come, tourists go,

Booklists, bus tickets, Oysters and traffic.

Dark early morning, rusty eyes,

Routine deployed, Winter is nigh.