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Michele's 'Poem from a reminiscing crone'

Once upon a time,
not very long ago
I met a town called Ballyk,
and viewed a tv show.

It offered wit and wisdom,
It offered heart and tears,
If spoke of life hereafter;
and problems, pain, and fears.

But somehow someone changed it,
It's really not the same,
the priest has changed his accent,
and golf is now the game.

The smiles are slowly dying,
the violins are slow,
the lilting brogue has deepened,
to a soapy, soppy, show.

I say this with all sorrow,
I hate to just complain,
but is this really Ballyk,
has someone gone insane?

The sheep all need a shepherd.
The cows are running wild.
The married pair are rowing,
much like a little child.

Oh, Ballyk where are you?
I cannot bear to see,
the ruination of what was,
the best thing on tv.

I sat and bowed my head in prayer,
I moaned, I sobbed, I cried...
"You have to stop this tragedy
before the river's dry!"

A sudden breeze blew past me,
A voice came through the air,
"My child, why do you worry so,
You thought I didn't care?"

Of course, I see the problem.
I'm working on it now,
You must have faith in miracles,
like Eamon and his sow.

Be brave and follow onward,
tis just a bumpy road.
Before you even notice,
I'll lighten up this load.

I still have powers not yet tried,
tricks waiting up my sleeve,
I've gone and whispered gentle words
to Dervla and to Steve.

So don't give up,
there's always hope,
I've faith in this, you know,
should Ballyk not change its ways,
there's always VIDEO!

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