February 16, 2011
By Staff Reporter
By Eileen Murphy
Ever since we won that poetry prize in fifth grade, for our heart-wrenchingly earnest haiku, "The bird was flying/Through the dark, polluted sky/Flying to its home," we’ve had a senss that we were somehow destined for lyrical greatness. It’s much the same feeling that Frank McCourt must have experienced after winning the Pulitzer, or Seamus Heaney after snagging the Nobel — humble, yet set apart from our fellow creatures.
Unfortunately, we never won another poetry prize (though not for lack of trying, we can assure you). But all those pent-up creative urges have forced their way to the surface, so we decided to write our last column of the year in verse. So without further ado, and with abject apologies to Clement Clarke Moore, we bring you
New & Noteworthy’s
Year in Rhyme
Twas the end of the year, and a column was due,
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To satisfy readers (and the editor, too).
So we thought a quick wrap-up of what had transpired,
Would be easy to write. (Hey — it’s late, and we’re tired.)
So we cast our mind back, oh, 12 months or so,
To the three Irish Tenors, to Gaybo’s last show
To Boyzone and Bono, The Corrs and Sinead,
MTV at The Point, and where Puff Daddy stayed.
The church didn’t rush to plan any new feasts
At the news that Sinead’s joined the ranks of the priests.
A renegade sect gave O’Connor the collar,
(Just thinking about it makes the pope want to holler.)
Three tenors — two Irish — a worldwide sensation!
All day, all night on every PBS station.
Now famous, they tour — Tynan played the Big Apple;
With what they were charging, they weren’t serving Snapple.
An Irish TV host, Gay Byrne, called it quits,
Which meant RTE had conniptions and fits.
He went out with a bang: Terry Keane kissed and told
About Charlie, the cash and their snoggin’ so bold.
Frank McCourt’s new book made a splashy debut,
A sequel to "Ashes," tis a bestseller, too.
But there’s ructions in Limerick, some say it’s a lie,
But begrudgers crawl out when sales are that high.
Oasis made news with an album and tour,
Though Liam went AWOL (the cheeky wee hoor!)
The Corrs went unplugged, they’re now MTV pets,
Just a brief glimpse of Andrea gives male fans the sweats.
U2’s Hotel Clarence, in cool Temple Bar,
Ain’t making much money — at least not so far.
It lost four million pounds, and that’s just in one year.
But rock stars still flock there — they just don’t buy beer.
In fiction, Bono made much more "real estate" money
"Million Dollar Hotel," stars Mel Gibson, our honey.
The movie hits malls near you sometime next year.
We hope there are shots of Mel G’s perfect rear.
Broadway turned Irish. "Lonesome West" and "The Weir,"
Drew in large crowds, and inspired great fear.
The first, fear of culchies; the latter, of ghosts,
And taught us to beware of the Irish as hosts.
The Cranberries came back with an album and single,
Neither of which made the cashboxes jingle.
Dolores complained that no stations would play it.
Radio guys thought her crazy, and weren’t shy to say it.
Liam Neeson stirred pulses as the Jedi Qui-Gon.
His face graced pizza boxes, toys and so on.
When he told a reporter t’would be his last movie,
His fan’s hue and cry (he’d admit) was quite groovy.
Wee Daniel O’Donnell invaded Town Hall,
We were dragged there by Mom, who said we’d have a ball.
He strutted his stuff, even wore leather pants!
The ladies approved — we chould tell by their chants.
Posh Spice said she needed a very posh spot
Where she and her football boy could tie the knot.
A castle in Ireland? Cor blimey, that’s great!
But light-fingered guests swiped the leased silverplate.
Pierce Brosnan was hot in a movie remake.
In the "Tom Crown Affair" he played a cool rake.
He had steamy scenes with costar Renee Russo.
As a rule he won’t strip, but they got him to do so.
’80s band Hothouse Flowers were happy to go
Up to Boston, till the opening band stole the show.
The Prodigals played and the crowd stomped and cheered,
The Flowers then bounced ’em — what was it they feared?
Bono’s campaigning to end Third World debt,
On Jubilee 2000, his heart is quite set.
He met with the pope, even gave him his glasses,
Though he and Bob Geldof were both dressed like asses.
Daniel O’Donnell says he’ll never get married!
His lifestyle, he says, is too frantic and harried.
He’s moved back to sweet Donegal and his mum,
He’s better behave, or she’ll paddle his bum.
Now, we all know beauty queens don’t have it bad,
They’re young and they’re pretty, but sometimes they’re sad.
Miss Northern Ireland missed out on Miss World —
No government at home. From the gig she was hurled.
NBC’s "Leprechauns" was so bad it stank.
The series’ producers deserved a good spank.
The wee folk, the fairies, the pocheen, the fights
Were boring, offensive, and took up two nights
Someone stole Bono’s treasured laptop computer.
The gards combed the country by foot, car and scooter.
The new album’s songs on its hard drive were stored,
When a guy turned it in, even Bono was floored.
Well, it’s been quite a year, we’re sure you’ll agree
With lots of neat gossip, and a scandal or three.
And with Y2K looms, above all the din,
We’ll say Happy New Year — let the good times begin!