Celtic Table In Canaryville - Poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Colcannon it was then day and night
in our crowded flat in Canaryville.
Pa out of work again and Ma at the stove
mashing potatoes with cabbage, onions,
and if St. Patrick smiled on us, bits of bacon!
Breaking fast before school bells rang,
or sitting at supper in the kitchen,
the eight of us dined like Celtic kings
and their queens on colcannon!
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