PIGS AND J.JUNOR
This island, this septic island
Adrift in a sea of indifference
Towed along by other entities
Once fearful of its wash
Hear the battle-cry from every tower block,
Every street corner, every public bar,
Every private club
It is the cry of the wastrel, the cry of the vagabond
The thief in the night, the rapist, the pick-pocket
The whore, the low cur, the high roller, the insider,
The asset-stripper, the banker and the bounty-hunter
Ask not what I can do for my country
But what my country can do for me
You have fouled this planet with your culture
Profaned us all with your arrogance
You value dogs more highly than children
And leave old soldiers to freeze in empty rooms;
Single mothers flaunt their skin-tight jeans
And ‘gentlemen’ still peer down their long noses
Where the only good Irishman is a stupid one
Or a dead one
And the only good Black man an unemployed one
Or a pimp.
Wouldn’t you rather be a pig?
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