The Hero's Call. Poem by Mai Murphy Venn

Well, money must be abundant in the Dail.
While the deprived of Ireland have none at all.
The man who is giving it away is called Micheál.
He is sending it to Ukraine for a weapons call.

I know this man who was ill just the other day.
He went to the hospital, and on a trolley he lay.
Eventually, he got a bed, which is the norm, so they say.
The Taoiseach takes to the sky for Ukraine for a stay.

Here in Ireland, our own are sleeping on the streets.
No houses for our native Irish-born, the ones you meet.
Yet money is given to pay for certain people as a treat.
While the Irish suffer in their silence and feel total defeat.

One day, the clouds will burst, and one million tears will fall.
When they do, we will be ready to take over the Irish Dail.
We elect someone who will be true and care for one and all.
Till then, we wait patiently, listening for that hero's call.