We are not ones to let facts get in the way, but —
Tipperary Hill has a tradition
old as shamrocks and green beer.
With a little chicanery and leprechaun’s luck,
our traffic light hangs opposite
so green is where it belongs.
Many a shillelagh was used to knock some sense
into the local politician’s heads
But some of them were so thick-headed,
it took a lot of mischief and rotten cabbage
to convince them of our stony wisdom.
We even built a statue commemorating the fine lads
who stoned the original traffic light
because it put the cursed British red on top.
Nowadays such people would be called hooligans,
but they were heroes I tell you.
We called those stones Irish Confetti.
We showed them a thing or two.
But my grandma reminds me; she had a stone or two
hidden in her apron
big as the Blarney Stone.
Every year we celebrate
by pouring green paint on the street
with the only traffic light hanging the right way.
We still pray for all the poor souls in Purgatory
for lying about being a part of that glorious day.