Rosary beads click through fingers, gnarled
Rattle clacking a stony path to heaven
Hail Marys, fifty,
Rise to cathedral heights inside
The Church at Glencolumbkille.

Old priest, head bowed behind the confessional silk
Has heard it all for years.
Stole and alb, his warrior's garb,
Keeping at bay the hound's fang
Ready to slash with sin all it encounters.

But not if he has a say.

Ode to Brendan Behan

Round-faced Borstal boy
With broken teeth, singing

A painter's cap and ladder
Pencil and paper

Climb your clip-clop way into heaven
For we'll all follow

A sweet sound of the old triangle
Does jangle for you and me