JOHN. B.


By Mattie Lennon.


Chorus

Before you went you told us not to cry.

On that sad night.

"Let the show go on" you said and then "goodbye".

We shouldn't question why you had to die

Before you went you told us not to cry




As Writer's Week had opened,

For it's thirty-second year,

Where poet and peasant mingle

To absorb Listowel's  good cheer.

A cloud crossed hill and valley

From Carnsore to Malin Head,

As news went 'round our island

"The great John. B. is dead"


Chorus.


He who walked with King and beggar

Will lift his pen no more,

To bring out the hidden Ireland

Like no one did before.

He banished inhibitions

To put insight in their stead.

The world stage is brighter

But The "Kingdom's King" is dead.


The dialogue of two Bococs

Is known in every town.

Now the Ivy Bridge links Broadway

To the hills of Renagown.

While men of twenty emigrate

And Sharon's Grave is read,

Or a Chastitute 's forlorn

His memory won't be dead.




Chorus.


They stepped out from the pages

Of The Man From Clare and Sive

To walk behind his coffin

Each character alive.

His Soul, with One-Way Ticket

To The Highest House has sped,

And this world has lost a genius;

The great John. B. is dead.



Chorus.



Copyright Mattie Lennon 2002


(Put to music by John Hoban.)

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