Irish Tunes

Time and again, time out of mind,
The old tunes, version on version, return
And batter down the doors.
Beat and off-beat winds the drum,
The accordion whoops and jumps,
And the whole shebeen is shaking
Down to the black taproot.
And come the lull
Everyone has died into their beer
And swum away with waterhorses
Down druid rivers.
This is the threshing floor,
The furnace of dreams.
How many hands have reached for this tune,
Felt and held it like a lover,
Followed its whorls and gyres?
A fingerprint of sound
Autographs the air,
And the song comes round
Again, always changed,
Telepathically.
Undulations and rolls
Of country roads-
Blue whisky
Makes me drunk
Then sober
Then drunk all over again!
Fill your hand with a flute
And pour out poteen…
Spirits of the alembic,
Visit me under the skin
And lead a merry dance.
Now the hooley, the spree, the rake,
The capers!