Nightmare Days

c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-13–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-12–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-11–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-10–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-9–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-8–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-7–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-6–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-5–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-4–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-3–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-2–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-1–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-0–>p class=”MsoNormal”>"Go down for the Belfast Telegraph," she said,

"And a packet of Victory V for your da’s head cold."

I put on my balaclava

And blundered into a riot.

Screaming saracens and bursts of smoke,

Disembodied cheers and shouts.

 

A wee fella ran past me

And hurled a green toffee paper at the troops.

"I died for Ireland and a penny dainty."

 

The thud of heavy boots in an echoing entry.

A trail of blood.

"Ambulance! Doctor! …."

 

"Tell his wife they’ve taken him away!"

Yelled a parka jacket.

 

Around the corner, the chapel bell chimed

For devotions.

 

"No Telegraphs left, young Morrisey,

No Victory V either.

Here’s a packet of Tunes

To help him breathe more easily."

He winked.

 

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