Needless Triplets by Padraig Meehan published on 2012/04/30 12:14:55 +0000 Needless Triplets (The Spirits) The spirits of the dead are like flies They hang around public houses, kissing empty glasses. They squeeze their arses onto already crowded seats To join in sessions, adding needless triplets To already crowded numbers. The spirits of the dead are close and they are distant; Wary of the strangers, however nice and friendly They are loose and tight as bodhran skins. They meet, you know, in middle rooms At certain odd conjunctions; They step out by times at the crossroads near the bridge in Boyle Passing maybe a howaya nod, while looking away; From the corner of the eye They study every countenance for signs of age Or signs of recognition. They are perpetually surprised, the spirit flies, That the children of their childhood friends Are all grown up and full of talk. The dead are always forgetting They break strings and carry no spares The corner shops are closed when their batteries fail Ah but this song, here, might help ye to remember This song, here, might ease the pain This song, here, might help ye in abandon This song, here, might stop the rain The spirits of the dead are like candle-girls Happy in the company of drunk men, drunk women, warriors with jackets lined on the outside Cigarette-breath kissers, bellies full and pockets empty; Those are the ones whose prayers they claim. It is widely known among those who know That nothing pleases the candle-boy more Than to hover over lurching shoulders, Guiding and advising in outrageous wagers Those with no intention of heading home.