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Wednesday, 16 January 2013


This is a poem called "Dung" from my book "Hamish Sheaney: The Nearly-Man of Irish Literature" - available in paperback from, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Waterstones, WH Smith, Blackwells and many more'  The first part of the book spoofs and takes the Mickey out of a similarly named poet's style and themes.  The second part of the book contains more general funny verse.
Ah, the smell of the country,
unfresh fresh air,
resonates like the farming news at ten,
dung, dung, dung, dung,
excrement, fertilizer, manure,
lathered all over the filthy fields,
spread thick like beef extract on baps.
I lift handfuls of it and hold it to my nose,
breathe in the beautiful bovine bouquet,
celebrate the goodness of the soil
before throwing up in the hay.

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