A quick li'l poem I wrote in about five minutes just now:
I've heard poor Molly Malone
And sad Dublin O'Shea
And I've danced at Tim Finnegan's
While there dead he lay
I've heard the glories of Pearce
Tom Clark and McBride,
Who for Ireland died.
I've sang of punch and whiskey
And the British--evil louts
I'll drink the parting glass and go
Cuz I'm all Irished out.