Grey December

by Neil Donnelly

Grey December, heart and soul

leafless trees on the road not taken,

that man in doorway with a begging bowl,

oh Lord, why is he forsaken!


In the guise of fake philanthropy

we plunder out the earth’s resources,

to gain that brand new shiny Chinese trophy

we sit before a screen and follow courses.


Love is strange and life is cruel

to hate and kill is so absurd,

there is no fire without a fuel,

she never used an evil word.


There was a time before the disarrayed,

before famine and the neighbor’s plunder,

the singer sang, the fiddler played

and dancing loud as thunder.


All men shall be equal

but some men more than others,

though most of us are useful,

all men need their mothers.

Neil Donnelly

Poet and playwright for the Abbey Theatre, Dublin