Ode to Noonan’s Budget 2016

By a poor neglected farmer

From the land of our fathers, comes a hero so great.

He really is mighty, he’s the cream on the cake.

He’s a man in million, a hero for sure.

Who saved dear old Ireland,

When she was flushed down the sewer.

He was the man with the answer,

When no response could be found.

He’s the farmer, my friend,

With his ear to the ground.

He produced all the milk and the beef that was needed.

To restore dear old Ireland when our banks were depleted.

With no builder to help, after causing the crash.

It was left to the farmer to bring in the cash.

And he did what was asked without a complaint,

For haven’t I been saying, he’s all but a saint.

And what did he get for his sweat and tears?

In last week’s budget,

hailed as the greatest in years.

Did he get gold and silver, or a crown for his head?

Or a date with Madonna or Rihanna instead?

Was it a trip to a hot spot that was given for free?

Or a chance to drive a racing car, like Mario Andretti?

Was it a giveaway budget that suited the poor farmer?

Of course it was not, there were no cheers from the parlour.

For the farmer, my poor friend, got sweet F all,

For working like a slave when the country did fall.

He got some tax credits that I find hard to understand,

With an income so low from his work on the land.

And then there were some adjustments to the forest I’m told.

With a tax-free windfall when filling a load.

But to many a farmer, that was no good,

For not every man lives in a forest or wood.

And what about the poor fellow who struggles

To keep his head above water,

His farm on its feet.

Was there anything at all for this neglected soul?

Who it’s often been said,

Would be better off on the dole.

Of course there was not, he was left as before,

With little by way to help carry his load.

So I didn’t get too excited when Noonan did talk.

For I had guessed from the start.

We’d be left in the dark,

The poor farmer was sidelined, just as before

’Twas the wealthy got the large slice, when they cried out for more.

I’ll give it a rest now, and change the dire subject

or I knew from the beginning,

’Twould be a rich man’s budget.


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