THE BIG BUN-FIGHT LIVE!!!
(St. Patrick versus the Easter Bunny with a Surprise Special Guest….)
This pair squared up on a bright sunny morn,
Bun’s ears were scratched, St. P’s cloak torn,
The reason for their age-old tussels
Was caramel, Cadburys and chocolate truffles…
St. P brought chocs in the midst of a fast,
Bun felt threatened so as in years past,
They fought for the right to be the new Willy Wonka
Throwing sweets and chocs from a float in Drumcondra.
Bun wore pink as was his wont,
His supporters behind, he pranced out front,
He thumbed his teeth at his mighty foe,
Rubbed his foot for luck and got ready to go,
St. Pat stayed serene, gripping his crook,
Even had time to read from a book,
When Bun struck out with his first Easter egg,
St. P was ready, whacked it back at his head,
He laughed as he threw his book down to the ground.
“Bun, I’ve been learning from this book I found –
All about baseball and how you can pound
Your enemy’s shots if you’re quick off the ground.
So come on with another, give the audience a treat
Get it out of your system and I’ll hand out the sweets.”
Bun’s eyes grew inflamed; steam flowed from his ears,
It was the most hurtful insult in years.
He bent down to his basket, all done up with ribbons
And packed full of eggs by his ninety-six sons.
“Have at you, St Pat!” (He was a fan of the movies)
“No dude disses like that!” (And he thought himself groovy)
Then the fight came in earnest, with eggs flying mid-air,
St P defended well, ignored Bun’s nutty glare.
Over and back, the coloured eggs flew.
Plain and dark chocolate, sparkly paper and blue.
“Give it up!” cried St. Pat, crook spun like baton.
“I dealt with the snakes, none can take me on!”
Bun started again, kicking eggs like a blaster.
But St. Pat was ready and belted them faster.
Suddenly there was noise, a galloping thud,
Like the sound of great hooves on thick, hardened mud.
Bun paused with his kicking, St. P lowered his crook,
This time he didn’t have time for the book.
They stared at the sight of a mighty great chariot,
Pulled by huge horses like in days of Camelot.
Inside they saw Caesar, a crown on his head,
As snug as a bug or a child in a carrycot.
He stared in confusion as he grimaced and said,
“Friends…romans…countrymen…no, something’s not right,
The Ides were for traitors, not a messy bunfight,
Farewell, noble warrior,” he said to St. Pat,
Then turning to Bun, was taken aback.
“Farewell…noble – Bunny, but beware of your crew,
Too many behind you, I’m sensing it too.”
He had hardly departed when Bun took up an egg,
Catch St. Pat off his guard and thus get ahead…
But St. P was ready and lambasted it back,
It hit Bun on the nose with one almighty Whack!
Down went the Pink Hero in a brown chocolate haze,
And lay there for some time in a sweet-smelling daze.
St. P kept tradition, helped Bun to his feet,
And promised him all sorts of nice things to eat.
“But can I have Rolos? And Toffee Crisp too?”
“Of course,” said St. P, “Here’s some shamrock for you.”
Now Bun was quite happy and they went to parade,
Arm-in-arm like old soldiers, Bun’s pride starting to fade.
But old Bun won’t stay happy for long or for good.
It’s just not in his character to stop when he should.
Pink words and choc eggs are all very fine,
But St. P. had God to call on in bad times.
In that happy state, there’d be no losing to loons,
He’d always win thru, like the best Country Tunes.