the ghosts

Evening at the Chateau de Healy.

I am alone in the front room.

My gentle preraphaelite features have a sombre quality.

The door opens quietly.

The ghosts of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and someone called The Big Bopper enter.

They are followed by the ghost of Don McClean.

The ghosts begin setting up their instruments.

"Heelers," says Buddy Holly, "we wrote this one for you."

Don McClean steps forward and begins to sing.

His voice is strangely whiney but also strangely appealing.

Don McClean sings:

"I remember how I cried,

When I heard that Heelers' hamster died,

Something touched me deep inside,

The day,

The hamster,

Died.

And I was singing,

Bye bye

Pro American Pie

Oh I wrote a blog article

Saying Al Qaeda must die

And there were some good old Irish Times journos

Drinking whiskey and rhye

Singing

Let's put George Bush on trial

Let's put George Bush on trial

*** 

Oh do you believe in God above

The God Stephen Hawking says you cannot prove,

Maybe Richard Dawkins

Was once a Christian for a while,

And Philip Pullman

Is sneering at Saint Thomas Moore,

As Nelson Mandela flirts

With his British whore

And Nelson's friend Charles Taylor
Sends children to mine diamonds for her.

***
Osama be nimble,

Osama be quick,

Jumpin Jack Bin Laden
Jumped over the Pakistani candlestick

But he doesn't care much for any fight

That doesn't involve air hostesses
On civilian flights
He thinks maybe there's another way

To make this Jihad business pay

Then Barack Obama kicked off his shoes,
And Bin Laden really dug those Guantanamo blues.
***

Oh a hundred misty teenage nights

The Hutton Enquiry switched out the lights

And brought Britain into the Caliphate

For a dime

And Sky News was on the scene

Reporting where Old Hammy had been

They said Hammy is the terrorist

Number one on the most wanted list
***

And the Johnston Press were going down

Like a sinking ship full of clowns

It made me think that maybe we need an A-Bomb
To make it all a little more humane

I can't bear the thought that they might drown

Surely something must be done

Couldn't we just shoot them in the bawls for a while?

***
A hundred banks in Ireland fail
As Cian O'Connor's horse busts out of jail
And Tony O'Reilly gets a job as a motorcycle courier
Ferrying dope-test specimens to test labs, nothing groovier
***
Bye Bye

Pro American Pie

Oh I drove to Grafton Steet

But Grafton Street was dry

And there were some Black Jacket Al Qaeda gangsters

Holding up street advertising signs

Singing

This'll be the day that you all die

This'll be the day that you all die
***

And the Mussies sued for damages

When their bombs blew up the wrong carriages

They'd missed their scheduled fate

Because British Rail was running late

And Michael Mansfield QC

Put Britain on trial

To keep Jihadis free

He reckons he'll be dead before they take over anyway.

***
It all kicked off with aplomb

Dig those Jihadi bombs

And a hundred crazy football yobs

Taught the Mussies how to sob

It made me think of Dunkirk for a while
***

And the Irish Times was through the floor

It's editor walking out the door

The journos kicked off their shoes

Dig those abortions and blues

The Irish economy now in the mire

With liberal atheists catching fire

They're gonna shut down the Catholic Church after two thousand years,

And replace it with something Karl Marx would approve...
***
Bye Bye

Pro American Pie

Oh I drove to the levy but the levy was dry

And those good old liberal atheists were drinking whiskey and rhye

Singing this'll be the day that the Free World dies."