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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Holiday · #2216138
Missing the festivities of St. Patrick’s Day.
On St. Patrick’s Day, all the pubs were closed;
all of the Irish beer drinkers got hosed.
Stay home, life of Riley, Erin go Bragh;
no pubs on Patrick’s Day sticks in my craw.

St. Patrick’s Day parade was cancelled too;
this virus caused many people to stew.
My four leaf clover brought no luck today;
all the St. Patrick’s fun now turned away.

Green beer a standard at Irish Bob’s Bar;
patrons would arrive from near and from far.
No signs of leprechauns with pot of gold,
because this year Irish rites were on hold.

(No camaraderie, no pub-served drink;
  too bad this custom is now on the blink.
  There was no corned-beef nor cabbage to share—
  a wee disrupter about everywhere.)
March seventeen oh so festive for sure;
bright Irish eyes smiling always endure.
Yet closures happening both left and right;
gone are the greens for St. Patrick’s delight.

Bring on a rainbow that spans coast to coast;
then perhaps we can again have a toast.
As long as this virus travels the land,
there are no pubs nor St. Patrick’s Day band.

24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
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