Belfast on a Sunday in Advent (December 1999)
And through the City Centre's wet,
The Christmas shoppers throng.
The shops are full, the car parks packed,
And the bloody queues too long.
The Christchild's message is drowned out
By commercialisms's song,
On a Sunday just before Christmas
Yet amid the mass, in a little church,
We praise Our Lord his birth.
How the son of God, for us and the crowds,
Became a child on Earth,
And our songs join those of Christian folk,
Around the planet's girth,
On a Sunday just before Christmas.
In this town of red brick and rain,
Rules ever Christ our king.
All classes and religons, He
Will bind up in one string,
To bring us to another place,
Where we with angels sing,
And eternity will be Christmas
Traveller's Tale (November 1999)
For in this other land I remain a stranger,
Other's say how brave I am to face danger,
But never confusion, or a metic's rootlessness,
In their ignorance they know not my homelessness,
Nor how God Save the Queen sticks in my throat.
To be of this people sounds a false note.
My country, must you drive me towards the emigration boat?
There are others, but some need work done, and some are a wee bit personal to put out in public yet.
Page launched 12 December 1999. Back to my homepage.