This is a collaboration between myself and Voodoo about Culture differences between Ireland and US. The bold parts are mine and italics are Voodoo.
Ire, your hometown
grew in the dannyboy fields
singing quietly in wait
for your days of drink
to begin, first in drops
then in storms
drunken little irishman
you're par for the norm
US, your hometown
reeks with oils and fats,
of fastfoods and cafe's
dripping a hail
from salivating lips
Drowning in waste,
to become gross and ugly.
Fein, minstrel shorn
red locks to the bastard's blushing
cheeks, waging home wageless
cause he forgot to tip the waitress
grabbed her ass, as is the daily
woman and kiddies, even the baby
starving at home and forging a hatred
come now, son
your town is painted
glossy finish to the walls
muddy fuckers in the halls
Wretching the obtuse larynx,
loving all the innocent
stupidties exist in life
neglecting the harsh strife
roar at the highest decibal found
causing tourists to run and bound
escape the realities of your pitch
sorrowful bunch of loud bastards...
Money greener than your pissant hills
women cheekier than a mountain of faces
asians and afrikans alike
dream about our landlocked places
smack the little mick around
boy's growing trouble to forfeit the town.
Only two types of you remain
war and anti, but all are guilty
for accepting a leader capable
fooling each one
embaressing your choice to elect
decency but tarred with stupidity,
leaving your trouble minded nation.
Fat raunchy pigs fuck in the mud
cattle spotted masticate cud
Swag the poles, forefathers fought
learned the mistake,
"Don't drown in draft, little mick
bullets and triggers
" Guns operate like baseballs,
One per house accepted,
mockery of life, to contain within
homes a destruction withheld,
To end life, intentional and deliberate
contradiction of 9/11, to kill your own
after others kill you
Shame upon each and all of you.
Culture isn't a privilege
Mick, learn your place
money and greed, abound
come on, little fein soldier
attack us, our hearts
not our wallets- fat as your mum
Where it counts
pride is and pride isn't
you'll never know
pride isn't for peasants.
You kind treat horses as your own
slanging a Redneck,
strutting and stalking a real lady,
Raping and unforgiving
tainting her life as a virgin no more,
But, there is hope,
as US peasants burn their brains,
while it trains a heap of shitty soldiers.
My brother's a soldier
not covered in shit
he wasn't born on a bar floor
sawdust and pith
never slapped his wife
or fucked a bogan's trailer
claimed glory for his nation
not played a player
nor spread legged a kid
for tarnished ends
Shakespeare was foolish
this rift has no mend.
" Once and for all,
after what's said during fall,
kids remain in baseball,
While whores replace the mothers,
Iraq will still remain undercover,
a disgrace of a nation
killing unborn babies as patients,
an undeserving economy at this pace,
For the disgrace that is the American Race.
"In peace shall we dine?"
"Nay, a fair stein."
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