Irish Independent - Weekend Review - - FRONT PAGE -

I will live in Ringsend With a red-headed whore, And the fan-light gone in Where it lights the hall-door; And lis­ten each night For her queru­lous shout, As at last she streels in And the pubs empty out. To soothe that wild breast With my old-fan­gled songs, Till she feels it re­dressed From in­or­di­nate wrongs, Imag­ined, out­ra­geous, Pre­pos­ter­ous wrongs, Till peace at last comes, Shall be all I will do, Where the lit­tle lamp blooms Like a rose in the stew; And up the back-gar­den The sounds come to me Of the laps­ing, un­soil­able, Whis­per­ing sea.

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