Early evening, single men
Synchronised drinking and there’s
That lone bar fly you get talking to:
My Dad’s lot were from Longford,
You begin, Ancient Mariner style,
My Mum’s from Castlebar:
Pause while you buy him a pint
(Kid yourself on that his quivering
Smile’s an encouraging grin),
Follow through with your
Great-Grandad’s tale,
The Bailiff he shot,
How he went on the run,
Came over to England
With his wife and My Nan,
Dug ditches, got drunk every night,
Changed his name, died too young…
But then those people you’re meeting
Have just wandered in but as you’re
Walking away you hear someone say,
“What was that?”
there’s a pause
Then it’s “Just some Plastic Paddy.”
And he’s heard by the whole fucking pub.
Kevin Patrick McCann
Illustration Nick Victor
From Still Pondering https://www.amazon.co.uk/Still-Pondering-Kevin-Patrick-McCann/dp/1788768671/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Patrick+McCann+Still+Pondering&qid=1573366856&sr=8-1