On Falls Road tinsel drapes,
cloth hunger-strikers embolden,
Bobby Sands beams for a metre and pipes,
“Our revenge will be the laughter of our children.”
On Shankill Road baubles shine,
rifles glare among red-hatted jollity,
brick coats of arms cheer and complain,
“The cause of the conflict in Ulster is Nationality.”
Times change. There should be a mural
of cash in a briefcase, cocaine in a barrel.
