Irish Town
I will go down to Irish Town,
where the old grey tower still holds
a barren watch for the shrouded ships
in the sea-wind's showery folds.
The florid men of the marbled heights
throw pennies at your pain;
in Irish Town they'll give you wine
as sweet as summer rain.
The haughty dames of Parson's Hill
have learned their love at school;
they feed their gallants perfumed cakes
and break hearts by the rule,
but the women down in Irish Town
were born with hearts that know
too desperately what wanting means
to think that love's a show.
So I will go down to Irish Town
where the river meets the sea,
and look for a little lasting love
in the grim grey tower's lee.
-- by Jon Corelis
originally published in Grey Matter
(University of Newcastle-upon-Tyne)
To: BRITPOE([log in to unmask])
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