I wrote this a few Christmases ago. A bit of light-heartedness seems especially appropriate now as 2010 draws to a close. Remember, it’s for a giggle, people – no disrepect intended to anyone of any religion! Merry Christmas everyone!
Lines Penned On the Occasion of the Epiphany
In olden times – nay, yesteryear,
Or perhaps it was days of yore,
Three Irish men sat down to plan
A trip to a far-flung shore.
They’d heard Our Lord had just been born
And they just had to see Him first-hand
They settled it over a couple of pints
They would head for the Holy Land.
Frankie Malone was the brains of the group,
He would sort all the travel and visas,
While PJ O’Brien would make sure to sort out
Some gifts for the baby Jesus.
PJ and Frank knew that Willy Magee
Was a few bricks short of a load
So to give him a job, they put him in charge
Of refreshments and snacks for the road.
They were finally ready, the boys set off.
The road was a hard one at first.
But their spirits were high and Willy had packed
Five slabs of Dutch Gold for the thirst.
In Damascus they met up with three fellas in turbans
Who claimed to be led by a star
Our heroes just shrugged – they were tolerant types –
And they asked them along for a jar.
Frankie and Co. felt guilty next morning
When their friends couldn’t move from their beds
But with no time to waste, they bid them goodbye
And left them there nursing their heads.
As they got nearer Bethlehem, matters improved
In terms of their method of travel
The locals stood back in amazement and gazed
At the three Irish lads on a camel.
In a field outside Bethlehem they had a wee session,
The end of the journey was near.
“And just as well too,” hiccuped Willy Magee,
“’Cos that’s nearly the end of the beer.”
“One last thing,” cautioned Frank, as he downed his last drop,
“We’ve a problem: our names are too silly.
They’ll laugh at us in Bethlehem if we say that our names
Are PJ, Frank, and Willy!”
“What were those lads called who we met in the bar
And left sound asleep in Damascus?
Oh yeah – Casper, Melchior and Balthazar,
We’ll just say those if they ask us.”
They set off and were just at the stable door
When O’Brien did let out a groan.
“The gifts for the babby – I got them, but lads –
They’re in the boot of me car back at home.”
“Here – divide up this stuff I bought in that bazaar,”
Said Frank, having thought for a minute.
“It was meant for the missus, but she’ll be none the wiser,
Sure I haven’t a clue what is in it.”
So they knocked on the door, and were welcomed inside,
They rejoiced at the Virgin Birth.
Then a shepherd regarded the gifts they had brought
And scornfully asked, “What on earth?”
“Twenty shekels that cost me!” said Frank, incensed.
“Mmm – errr…” said PJ, far from sober.
Then Willy produced his last can of Dutch Gold
And solemnly handed it over.
People heard far and wide of the three foreign men
And their strange tongue (some believed it was Greek)
And the gift they had brought for to worship Our Lord
(Even if it was somewhat – unique).
Only three weary Persians, not long back from a journey,
Declared there was really no mystery.
But no-one believed them how three Irish blokes
Stole their place in the annals of history.
© Curmumgeon 2010