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Irish Graveyard Jig

by Marty Hollis

Cabbage in the pantry,
Cabbage in the hall,
Without the chilly autumn winds
There’s cabbage not at all.

Liam dug up Uncle Mick
Who died in forty-six.
Curious our Liam was to see
How nature did its tricks.

Odd Liam got a big surprise
When the oaken lid he pried.
Old Mick was staring up at him
As if he’d never died.

“And what did you expect to see?”
Mick winked cold eye so blue.
“I went to sod but not to God,
Twelve years waiting here for you!”

Cabbage in the kitchen,
Cabbage in the shed.
Don’t venture out on frosty nights
To vex the Irish dead.

Copyright © 2012 by Marty Hollis

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