The last obscenity.

The last obscenity.

Of all the cults that ever were,
Of all the schemes and follies,
There are few as vile as Monarchy,
Foist on all as oh so jolly,
Viler still are those that cheer,
Their Masters and their betters,
Doff the cap, drop the gaze, bend the knee,
Oh come adore their fetters.

Not for hoi polloi you see,
The Devine inheritor of powers,
The wanton waste and wasted wants,
Building sweet carnation bowers,
To hide the stench of passers by,
From those coronation flowers,
Roar and cheer and wave hello,
Separate from gathered masses.

As the carriage clatters past,
Venerate the upper classes.
For the short sleeve stump,
The rot rum slump,
The clink and chink of metal,
Fine gifts of empire to the flock,
Kept the natives in fair fettle,
To fatten nicely silk lined pockets.

Round up the tender chattel,
As sharp and hot the whip it flew,
For in the well picked rows they grew,
Sweet tobacco and soft cotton.
Oh lucky you and lucky me,
That we may scrape and grovel,
Expect naught but grunts from sties,
Prostrate lay thankful for the hovel.

For that house there is built of pain,
Of naked lust and greed,
The other bought by genocide,
Good old fashioned blood,
Mortar bound in fear,
Foundation stones of broken bones,
Sunk deep in mire and muck,
The aged truth of finding brass,
Were ‘er the mud does suck.

And when time it comes to fight the wars,
You’ll lock in step together,
For ploughboys fill the cemetery,
Hoorah!, The rank and file forever,
The ring of shells make funeral bells,
When hell has burning fell to earth,
Mourning, gorging, o’er the coffer,
T’will be the last obscenity.

by Ruairí de Barra


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