In fact, over there I understand it's a boy's name--
mom and dad were expecting such. Surprise, surprise!
See, I was contrary from the get-go.
I've got Irish all up and down one side of the tree--
they'd sell ya a car with no wheels
and you'd thank them, smile, and miss them after they were gone
with your cash in their pocket.
Don't be bitter when you read that, they're none the richer for it by now.
The other side of the tree is stodgy English.
All they'd do is frost the windows with their personalities,
take a fearless and searching moral inventory of everybody else,
and petrify from excess of reserve.
Guess which side I take after? Aw, Daddy, you're always the one.
When I was young--just a lass...joost a lasss...how's that? Oh shut up.
Anyway, there was this man, James, who could drink as much as I could,
was ten years older than me and knew the Poets.
He'd been all around the world.
I was with him in Detroit, in Texas, in Manila and in Denver.
We wandered through St. Louis and New Orleans, drunk as ducks.
One day, he disappeared, nobody knew where, and I never heard from him again.
Thanks, James, even so. Here's a half-Irish smile for ya. I miss you.
And thanks for not going into my bag--you'd have found the pawn ticket
for my Claddagh ring because I had to feed the stray I'd fallen for.
for Weekend Challenge "Blarney Me."