Maguires, false fronts,
Bicycles on the wall,
Thousands of miles from the auld country,
Impressions of a Hollywood loony vision,
The Quiet Man,
Hoary old non-traditions,
And a Brigadoon inspired,
Guying the gullible into believing
Believing any old crap about notions,
Notions of "home"
Miles from the peat bogs,
And craggy outcrops,
Dead souls still gathering lost sheep,
As ersatz Guinness flows, unabated.