Dalriada

For Christ’s sake, drop this balaclava
barbed wire murals guns palaver!
Would you Picts and Gaels not rather
be great battlers
for the realm of Dalriada,
you old rattlers?

Meld your two tongues together,
go on, marry in Gretna.
The Ulsterman’s forever
the son of the Scotch settler.

Build a tunnel of love below
the Straits of Moyle and say hello
to Dalriada joined, aglow.
No-one’s Iscariot.
The Scotsman landed years ago
in an Irish chariot.

Are you Celts or Cypriots?
Why the barbarous ballet,
are you bards or idiots?
Take off that turfy beret.

Wipe all those tattoos vociferous
off your face, replace with woad.
Gambol through the glens, floriferous.
Irish mouths, see the high road
and leave no chieftain unsung.
So there’s no spats,
build your capital among
the tailless cats.