The Taoiseach’s New Clothes
(or How the Celtic Tiger Became Extinct)
A long time ago, when the Taoiseach
once again didn’t know what to do,
his advisors came up with an answer
and brought him to Dublin Zoo.
At a cage which he thought was empty
they stopped. ‘Now here’s our surprise:
he’s called the Celtic Tiger
and can only be seen by the wise.
‘Just look at his beautiful pelage,
his clear eyes and strong sturdy neck -
you will see that in no time or faster
he’ll get things on this isle back on track.’
And people came from the four corners
of the world to see and festoon
the Tiger that came out of nowhere
and was to return there quite soon.
‘How he’s grinding that bone like a cupcake! ’ -
‘My gosh, what a beautiful brute! ’ –
‘Watch, he’s dancing the tarantella
in a skirt on two paws; ain’t he cute? ’
And the Tiger grew bigger and stronger,
and soon he came of age.
‘He’s been growing a lot’, said the keeper,
‘and he’ll need a bigger cage.’
‘He is right’, the advisors admitted.
‘I think I will give it a miss’,
said the Taoiseach. ‘He’s only a keeper,
what the hell would he know about this? ’
But then, on the following morning,
the keeper was hanging his head,
and he went to the Taoiseach and told him:
‘I’m afraid the Tiger is dead! ’
‘That can’t be’, cried the Taoiseach and hurried
to the cage where he asked for the key
and leaned over his pet and caressed him:
‘Quick, bring me an AED! ’
The keeper looked slightly bewildered
and lit a cigarette:
‘With his head being cut off so neatly,
[...] Read more
poem by Frank L. Ludwig
Added by Poetry Lover
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