[Ann Drysdale]

OK - you lot can do Sam, I'll go for a bit of Willy.

It was an ancient mariner who went to Innisfree
And a wee shebeen built there, of turf and spittle made
Nine guest ales does he keep there, and the Guinness, naturally,
And striped umbrellas for the noon shade.

Of course he gets no peace there, if peace means sneaking past
With no man setting foot there from lark-rise to last orders,
For lunchtimes are a bustle and each night is a blast
And much business done beyond borders.

I will arise and go there, for here by night and day
I must have an eye to the shadow on every corner
And I lurk in a doorway not to put myself in the way
Of the boot of An Garda Síochána.