Dáil Éireann, Ireland, 19th of August
My dear and loving son John
My colleagues have all gone to play golf in Galway
& I wish to Christ that I'd gone
For the play might be slow, but the porter would flow
And the nights would be mighty oul' craic
Where the songs'd be sang 'til the bells'd be rang
And the pints would be creamy and black.
And I know that our diction cried further restriction
And we all emphasised what we said
But it's just what we do and sure this much is true
That they can't criticise when they're dead.

Dáil Éireann, Ireland, the 20th of August
Dear John, I write quickly because
There's a shit-storm from Galway now coming towards us
Thank Christ now I stayed where I was
Well I tried to tell Dara that someone might see him
Or the 80-odd-others that went
But he just said Micheál it's on out in Clifden
It's not like we're flying to Ghent.
And the public are angry, but when are they not?
Though I didn't expect it so soon
I had hoped with time that they simply forgot
That we rode them to wreck and to ruin.

Dáil Éireann, Ireland, the 20th, still Thursday
in August at least now I think
'Cause the past coupla' days have been spent in a haze
And what I wouldn't give for that drink.
But the pubs here are closed, though I could I suppose
Find a place that's still open for grub
Though I can't justify paying 9 quid for fries
And some salad that's plucked from a shrub.
But you'd swear by the way that the public are fuming
They think that we're men of our word
Though it's fair now to say that's a lot of assuming
And frankly it's simply absurd.

Dáil Éireann, Ireland, Friday the 21st
My dear and loving son John
The mob bayed for blood and to pay them their thirst
It's true now Calleary has gone
Well the hope is His head will now put this to bed
And we'll all get to swiftly move on
'Cause with Barry being pissed, and now Dara dismissed
There's not a lot more can go wrong.
But it's hardly my fault for their lack of compliance
Though it still reflects poorly on me
So if you know anyone with an A in Ag. Science
Can you ask them to send their C.V.?

Dáil Éireann, Ireland, sometime around midnight
Dear Micheál, your mother just called
She said me calling you John had just made you feel shite
& she sounded both shocked and appalled
But as I said to her, I says, Mary I'm busy
You can't just presume that I'll know
The names of my children as if I was with them
It's enough to remember my own
But she said that's it though, it's your name we called him
And the long and the short of her rant
Is I'm sorry for calling you John this whole time
But I'm sure now that you'll understand
'Cause I thought being Taoiseach would be better craic
But I couldn't envisage these fools
Or that I'd be expected to pick up the slack
When they wouldn't obey their own rules.