A poet once wrote
to a sibling of note;
both of them brothers.
One had a boat.
One had a jacket; the other a coat.
The first had a gullet; the second a throat.
Said he, tactfully,
"I've a notion, or three,
if ye come 'cross the water
a visitin' me,
much of this land
we're both bound to see,
and the craic will be mighty.
You wait and you'll see."
So across came the lad
and at first he was glad
but the trip soon turned sour
as things became bad.
"You're making me mad
'coz you sound like ma dad.
I've had all I can take!"
Now both boys became sad.
But they woke up next day
and continued to play.
More thoughtful was each
as they went on their way.
They saw many a bay
and a field full of hay,
and they seemed more civil
at each place tht they'd stay.
Eventually though,
as most travellors know,
time came to part, since on had to go.
As the elder watched younger
with baggage in tow,
he thought "There goes my brother.
My friend,
not my foe."
July, 1994.
