THE KING'S ENGLISH Poem by Derry O’Sullivan

for Johnny Granville
Our country from Dingle to the Graig
Stuck out its igneous tongue
At Slea Head erasing liquids
There, Jesus,
Framed in glossed reproduction,
Offered his burning paper heart
Over us on the settle,
While the Rock King's "Wooden Heart"
Ruled the Radio Éireann's waves;
Disturbed from her dolls she listened
And began to sing:
Through gapped milk teeth
The King's tongue jostled hers,
Once used to Irish kings,
Pushed open her lips to reproduce
His broadcast wireless creation
And yet she said not a word
Of the King's English
To peg at a dog!
Her grandfather muttered away
About a banjaxed tongue
And Cuchulainn, dead against the airwaves.

Here, over Johnny's bar,
Beneath the Sacré Coeur,
Three knackered tongues in cheek,
No better off than Jesus,
I offer her Wooden Heart,
Become paper too.