The Irish Gent

(12-17-04)

I think I have ash in my eye
Or is that Kristin's dog I see?
Where is that lovely Irish gent?
Is he looking for me?
Blast these damn tears welling up
Streaming down my face, so free
I search for what I can not find
Lost like a drifting ship at sea
Wading through the cold salty water
I hear buzzing from a bee
Telling me to wait for the Irish gent
Oh where in the hell is he?
What is this under my bed?
It is a stale green pea
I wonder if my Irish gent
Can sing twiddle de dee?
Of course he'll have to find me first
And then, on bended knee
He'll kiss my hand and give me a wink
We will be so very happy, Wee!