Celtic Frolic - Poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Colcannon it was then all day long
in our four-room flat in Canaryville.
Pa out of work again
and Ma in the kitchen
cabbage, and onions,
and if St. Patrick smiles,
bits of bacon!
Breaking fast early
before school bells ring,
or sitting at the supper table,
the eight of us dine
like Celtic kings and queens
on cold colcannon!
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