Seán Tyrrell

• Belladonna in the Bar
• November Rain
• Mattie
• Demolition Dan
• The Quaker
• The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God

• The Ghost of Billy Mulvihill
• Game Over
• The Cap and Bells
• The Lights of Little Christmas
• Marian's Song
• Cry of a Dreamer

BELLADONNA IN THE BAR

She sits, and spins, and makes no wool,
ovaries empty, belly full,
and all the pubby amber day
she waits for some be-lagered prey.

Her eyes, above her borrowed drink,
the hue of octopus's ink,
regard me with baleful gaze.

She hopes an alcoholic haze
will open pocket, loosen tongue,
and when the information's wrung
she'll take the words and change them- quite
and embellish them with spite,

And envy's rictus clamps her groin
as she sees each silvery coin,
each single five- and ten pound note
slide, destined for another's throat,
across the counter for a drink-
she must replot, rescheme, rethink.

This mistress of stiletto-stabs
lets malice fall in dribs and drabs,
and when she drinks with friends of mine,
a little poison in their wine
makes women cautious, men suspect
that I'm the High Priest of her sect,
that all my moves are slyly planned,
that rumour is my magic wand"
that my end is exploitation,
that I, not she, will rob the nation.

So come you lushes, drinkers, topers,
be you residents or interlopers,
sail you on yachts or dhows or junks,
be you Sunday" or weekday-drunks-
beware this black and midnight hag
with venom in her shopping bag.

NOVEMBER RAIN

From the hot winds of summer
The winter has come and has gone
And the wild geese are flyin’
So gently away from their homes
On big ships that sail
Away from the land
Across the sea ochone.
Remember November rain
Remember, remember November rain.

So my love fare thee well
I’ll write to you soon
And I’ll tell you
How much I miss you
And how I’ll soon be home.
Remember November rain
Remember, remember November rain.

The harbour lights glisten
Like the eyes of the women who wait
For news of those men
Whose love has turned to hate
The dark days have come
The hunger’s begun
The clouds have darkened ochone.
Remember etc.

The wind may be sighin’
The sea may be soundin’ soft in your ear
But remember that rainbows are formin’
While nobody hears
Our love is changeless
Through the years
I’ll have arms to welcome me home.
Remember etc.

MATTIE

Mattie walked out on a frozen night
He was headin’ for the pub and he had no delight
His head down on the railroad track
And his old cow Delia sad lowin’ him back.

He met with a dark and staggerin’ man
as he passed him by shouted back at him:
“Mattie can’t you see what’s become of me?
I cannot feel the fin.”

“The very last house that I have left
Half impressed with my rhymes
They’re now all dead to me
All I’ve got left is the beat of the stagger
Headin’ down the Curra Line.”

But Mattie passed on as quick as he could
He couldn’t stand such a drunken man sober
All he wanted was the light in the bar
The “Nightingale” and the “Wild Rover”.

When he came in
They were sayin’: “Now you’re back
Did Delia drive you out
With your spoutin’ and your swearin’?
We don’t want to hear about Bunker Hayden
But later you can give us the ‘Girls of Kinkane’.”

The fear-a-ti eyed him warily
As he handed him his first jar of porter
He says: “You must have seen the bishop’s ghost tonight
To put the dry look back in your eye.”

But Mattie would not be taken in
By their jibin’ and their regalin’
He found himself a freshly blown crew
And fell in with their sport and their bailin’.

But as he was going home, in the very same spot
Where he met his dark familiar
He seen him comin’ back down the line
And he was bright, strange and fine.

As he passed him by Mattie threw out his arms
Tryin’ to grab hold of his likeness.
In the morning all they found was a frozen corpse
At the butt of the Curra Line.

And at the wake
They were lashin’down
“The drops of brandy-“
“The old fashioned habit-“
In the church they were lashin’ down pounds and fivers
So Mattie would be fine in the old by and by.

DEMOLITION DAN

‘Twas just before Easter, the night it was balmy
The mist stealin’ in from the eastern sea
Myself and McGuigan we fell out of Canwells
Our hands a groopin’ the door of the squad
When a bright orange flame it upset the horizon
Accompanied by such a thunderous retort
We turned the car round and sped up to Rathsheedan
Through mouthfuls of tea leaves we cursed and we swore.

Said McGuigan to me: “Are you sure those are tea leaves?”
The scene that we witnessed on cemetery hill
There were coffins and gravestones all over the roadside
And corpses in various states of decay
An’ all you could hear was the squad engine throbbin’
When we put in a call to the local HQ
Through the mist came a swirling a croppled young surly,
He stared at the searchlight and this he did say:

“I’m Demolition Dan, I’m your ignition man
A terrorist sent down by God to liberate ye from yeer native sod
White sepulchers beware they keep us all down here
If you get too attached to the things in this life
I’ll blow your old headstone away, in the night.”

McGuigan tore into him boots and fists flying
Saying: Half me wife’s family is buried hin there”
But not a tire came from the mad bastard
Through blood was a pourin’ right out of his grin

When we finally bundled him into the backseat
The night was alive with sirens and lights
Of army trucks comin’ up Rathsheedan Hill
To bury the dead before coming of dawn.

For many years after his incaraceration
Strange tales were related about this mad man
Some said that his father was one of the force
His mother a wayward one was buried in there
Said others the drugs and born-agin Protestants
Out of America drove him insane
But myself and McGuigan will never forget
The strange look in his face and the words he did say:

“I’m Demolition Dan, I’m your ignition man
A terrorist sent down by God to liberate ye from yeer native sod
White sepulchers beware they keep us all down here
If you get too attached to the things in this life
I’ll blow your old headstone away, in the night.”

THE QUAKER

A traveller travelled the wilds among,
With his purse of gold and silver tongue;
His hat was broad and all drab were hisclothes,
And he hated high colours except on his nose,
And he met a lady, so the story goes.

The damsel she cast him a beamy blink,
But the traveller was nothing loth, I think;
Her merry black eye beamed her bonnetbeneath,
And the Quaker he grinned - for he’d very good teeth
And he asked her “Art thee going to ride on the heath?
“I hope you’ll protect me, kind sir,” said the maid
“For to ride this heath over I am truly afraid;
They say that robbers do here abound,
And I shouldn’t for anything I should be found,
For between you and me I have five hundred pounds.”
“If that is thee own,” the Quaker he said,
“I never met a maiden I sooner would wed;
and I have five hundred here just now,
In the padding under my saddle bow,
And I’ll settle it all on thee I vow.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

The damsel she smiled and her rein she drew,
“I’ll take your offer but I’ll not take you.”
A pistol she put to the Quaker’s head -
‘Now give me your gold or I’ll give you my lead -
It’s in the padding of your saddle I think you said.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

The damsel ripped up the saddle bow,
And the Quaker was never a Quaker till now,
He saw by the maiden he wished for a bride.
His purse borne away with a swaggering pride,
And the eyes that shammed tender now only defied.

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

“The spirit doth move me, friend Broadbrim, quoth she,
To remove this filthy temptation from thee,
For mammon deceiveth and beauty is fleeting
Accept from your maiden a right loving greeting
For much does she profit from this Quaker’s meeting.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

‘So Hark jolly Quaker, so rosy and sly,
Have righteousness, more than a wench, in thine eye,
And don’t go peeping girls bonnets beneath,
Remember the one that you met on the heath.
Her name’s Jimmy Barlow I tell you to your teeth.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

“Friend James says the Quaker please listen to me,
For thous canst confer a great favour you see,
The money you have taken is not mine my friend,
And truly on thee I do depend
To make it look like I did my trust defend.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

“So fire a shot through my clothes here and there,
And make it appear like it was a desperate affair,
So Jim popped first through the tails of his coat,
Now one through his collar quite close to his throat,
Now one through my broadbrim qouth Ephraim I vote.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

“I have but a brace said bold Jim and they’re spent,
And I won’t load again for a make believe rent.”
The Quaker produced a pistol and said “Give
My five hundred pounds back or as sure as you live
I’ll make of your body a riddle or sieve.”

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

Jimmy Barlow was diddled and through he was game,
He saws Ephraim’s pistol so deadly in aim,
He gave the money back and took to his scapers
And when the whole story got into the papers,
It said the thieves were not match for the Quaker’s.

Heigh o! yea thee or nay thee.

THE GREEN EYE OF THE LITTLE YELLOW GOD

There’s a one-eyed Yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu,
There’s a little marble cross below the town.
There’s a broken hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the little Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as Mad Carew to the subs of Kathmandu.
He was hotter than they were inclined to tell,
But for all his foolish pranks he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel’s daughter smiled on him as well.

He loved her all along with a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
She was nearing twenty-one when arrangements were begun
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote and asked what present would she like from Mad Carew.
They met next say as he dismissed the squad,
And jestingly she told him that the only thing would do
Would be the green eye of the Little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Carew seemed in a trance.
They chafed at him as they puffed on their cigars,
But he never once did smile, sat their all the while
Walked out into the night beneath the stars.
‘Twas dawn when he returned, his shirt and tunic torn
A gash across his forehead dripping red.
They patched him right away, he slept throughout the day
The colonel’s daughter watched beside his bed.

At last he awoke, asked his tunic be sent through.
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod.
He bade her search the pockets saying, “that’s from Mad Carew”
‘Twas the Green Eye of the Little Yellow God.

She upbraided Mad Carew in the way that woman do,
Though strangely both her eyes were hot and red.
She wouldn’t take the stone and Carew was left alone
With the jewel that he had risked his life to get.

When the ball was at its height on that still and tropic night
She thought of him and hastened to his room.
As she crossed the barrack square she could near the dreamy air
Of a waltz turn floating softly through the gloom.

His door was open wide, the moon was shining through,
The floor was wet and slippery where she trod.
And ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew
‘Twas the vengeance of the Little Yellow God.

There’s a one-eyed Yellow Idol to the north of Kathmandu.
There’s a little marble cross below the town.
There’s a broken hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Little Yellow God forever gazes down.

THE GHOST OF BILLY MULVIHILL

While looking out my window in the heart of Dublin 4
The ghost of Billy Mulvihill was walking by my door.

He wore a heavy coat his face was pale and thin
He waved up at my window but I wouldn’t let him in.

What was he doin’ walkin’ on upper Leeson street?
A cardboard suitcase in his hand and hobnails on his feet
He flashed up at my window his old big tooth grin.
But I moved back in the shadows and I wouldn’t call him in.

As I moved behind the curtain and beat a coward’s retreat,
The ghost of Billy Mulvihill walked up Leeson street.
He vanished in the traffic his suitcase full of sin,
I knew he wanted comfort but I wouldn’t let him in.

That night as I saw writing the clock said nearly four,
The ghost of Billy Mulvihill stood on my kitchen floor
“The fight you’re fighting Mikey is a fight you’ll never win”
But I locked the door inside my head and I wouldn’t let him in.

Repeat
He waved up at my window but I wouldn’t let him in.
I knew he wanted comfort but I wouldn’t let him in.
I locked the door inside my head and I did not let him in.

GAME OVER

See the blood spout, steaming, gleaming
Dark the ocean, dark and streaming
There she blows and there we slaughter
The whale nations last sons and daughters

Whale away boys, whale away.
Whale away boys, whale away.

On land we stalk the mighty tuskers
Their pride and glory courts disaster
Their graveyard is the vast savannah
Or eighty notes on some grand piano

Fire away boys, fire away.
Fire away boys, fire away.

The trees that crash through burning forests
Are echoes of our broken promise
To future days and future lives
When nothing lives, when hope has died
When nothing lives, no thing survives

Burn away boys, burn away.
Burn away boys, burn away.

What can we do? How can we master
This greed and blindness that pushes faster
Where money screams wisdom withers.
The eagle falls - The lion shivers.
The eagle falls - The lion shivers.

Hip Hooray boys. Hip Hooray.
Hip Hooray boys. Hip Hooray!

THE CAP AND BELLS

The jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.
It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It had grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quite and light footfall;

But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heave casäement
And pushed the latches down.

He bade his heart go to her,
When the owls called out no more;
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.

It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.

‘I have cap and bells,’ he pondered,
‘I will send them to her and die’;
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.

She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love-son
Till stars grew out of the air.

She opened her door and her window,
And the heart and the soul came through,
To her right hand came the red one,
To her left hand came the blue.

They set up a noise like crickets,
A chattering wise and sweet,
And her hair was a folded flower
And the quiet of love in her feet.

THE LIGHTS OF LITTLE CHRISTMAS

When the snow lies on the hillside like the ghost of being born
And the wind makes praying fingers in the shadows of the thorn
There’s someone I often think of wishing, somehow she’d return
Though I know she’s in some city watching coloured neons burn

In the still and silent midnight thoughts unbidden come to mind
Shades of pictures in an album labelled,‘These were better times.’
And that girl she smiles out sweetly, sitting pretty in the frame
Blowing out her penny candles and I hear her call my name

Chorus
And the lights of Little Christmas shine so brightly in the west
Saying please come home we miss you
and we wish you all the best
yes, we wish you all the best

Now another winter marches ‘cross the fields of frozen stone
And another Little Christmas finds me quietly at home
Til the telephone starts ringing and I go totake the call
Someone asking, ‘Do you know me? Doyou know this voice at all?

Never in a lifetime could I be made toforget
In a journey of a thousand miles I remember every step
And, yes, I know those sweet lip that are so close to the phone
Is she here or in America? Is she home or is she gone?

Chorus
She says I just got into Shannon and I think I’m home to stay
Could you come and pick me up down here. There’s a word you’ve got to say

And I’ve barely put the phone down and the keys are in my hand
And each little light that I pass by says right here’s your promised land.
Yes, each little light that I pass by says right here’s your promised land.

MARIAN’S SONG

Sit with me, talk with me, come then and walk with me
Down by the ocean when it’s high tide
Let me help you unburden this feeling of lonesome
I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side

I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side

You’re feeling as bleak as the first days of Winter
And thinking no one loves you at all
An angel of lonesome is perched on your shoulder
And your fragile emotions are now in free- fall

Sit with me, talk with me, come then and walk with me
Down by the ocean when it’s high tide
Let me help you unburden this feeling of lonesome
I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side

I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side

These grey days of Winter wont last forever
Sunshine again will feel warm on your face
You’re brittle, not broken, just feeling neglected
I’ve been where you’re anchored, I’ve moored in that place

I’ve been where you’re anchored, I’ve moored in that place

Sit with me, talk with me, come then and walk with me
Down by the ocean when it’s high tide
Let me help you unburden this feeling of lonesome
I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side

I’ve been where you’re anchored, let me be by your side
I’ll be by your side

CRY OF THE DREAMER

I am tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart weary of building and spoiling
And spoiling and building again.
And I long for that dear old river,
Where I dreamed my youth away;
For a dreamer he lives forever,
And a toiler will die in a day.

I am sick of the showy seeming
Of a life that is half a lie;
Of the faces that are lined with scheming
In the throng that hurries by.
From the sleepless thoughts’ endeavour
I would go where the children play:
For a dreamer he lives forever
And a thinker dies in a day.

I can feel no pride but pity
For the burden the rich endure;
There is nothing sweet in the city
Save the patient lives of the poor.
Ah, the little hands too skillful,
And the child-mind choked with weeds!
The daughter’s heart that’s grown willful,
And the father’s heart that bleeds!

No, No! From the street’s rude bustle,
From the trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the wood’s low rustle
And the meadows’ kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by that river,
And be loved for the dream always;
For a dreamer he lives forever
And a spoiler will die in a day.