A Good Irish Fight

. . .

A Good Irish Fight

The bottom fell out the other night.
Names did not matter, men ready to fight.
None would take that unworthy plight,
To let anything happen without a good Irish fight.

The scowl in their eyes, and grit of their teeth,
Made the wisest of Sayers, take off fast in fleet.
They'd run with fury; escaping the rage of the night.
When the Micks get angry none better could fight.

You wouldn't believe what was seen on that night,
Left hooks were thrown, the Micks danced with delight.
They know they could fight with the best of them all,
Every Mick there till the last thrown fist, and call.

A bloody nose, and black eye, badge of honour that night.
They joke, and laugh hard, about that good Irish fight.
There were no better fighters from here to Dundee.
No doubt in their mind's they'd never run, hide, or flee.

Could a good Irish man be proud of himself,
If he'd not fight with true heart; be brave with no stealth?
Without first being a man, and stand ready to fight,
The Micks stood proud that cold frosty night.

SHEA

The might of the word...is YOURS!

"POETRY SHELF" 

ID: 1241754   (Rated: E) Title: Lost Keys  Description: Lost Keys - Welcome - Welcome - Welcome! Come read the story about my lost keys. By: SHEA

"PROSE SHELF"