Sláinte

Don't let me keep you
from fucking the world over,
but Seamus Heaney has died.
Just some old poet
guy with a funny accent
who wrote about stuff
in peoples hearts and minds.
Not serious things like
gassing and bombing
and killing, I know.
Some old guy
who looked between
and saw what was there
and reported back
so that we could ignore it
and buy another TV.
I think that it's
worth noting that he
bought Beowulf
back to life
and wrote of turnip snedding
in relation to life
but that's just me,
what do I know, poetically
Things I learnt from him, mainly,
though he was the man
and I am a boy.
Yeah,
sorry,
going on a bit.
He was a good guy.
You have to get back
 to your work, eh.