The good people of Kilkieran County
are scrawny, bent, and brown.
Their crop has the Blight.
Their hands are tangles of alderbrush
wound 'round rusty nails.
Superstitiously,
they take the bread upon their tongue,
then curse the GST.
The good people of Kilkieran County
smoke Export A expertly hand-rolled in Vogues,
drink black rum on Sunday aftermass.
Their women are red and stout and contrary.
The good people of Kilkieran County
have eyefulls of mud,
mouths of ash and rot.
They haul up the hill
they stretch their limbs
in Andrew the Apostle yard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love those mud-folk of Kilkieran County!