It was an ancient mariner
Who went to Innisfree
To tame his tic of telling guests
Tall tales about the sea
But found the clay-built cabin there
Had weird young William in it,
Half-starved on legumes, honeycomb
Or lightly-roasted linnet.
Deafened by bees and lapping waves
And bean-fuelled wind at night
The tar was also forced to hear
His droning host recite
Such mystic Celtic moonshine verse
As caused him to feel ill
Enough to drown himself, that's why
A ghost now haunts Lough Gill.
Wot, no Deep Drills for The Oldie?
Last edited by Jerome Betts; 07-28-2014 at 04:14 AM.
Reason: Tweaks
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