An Ode for the Person or Persons Unknown, Who Impolitely Took My Money at the Knitting & Stitching Show, Dublin, Oct 09 and the Journeys taken as a result

No, you didn’t ask permission

Didn’t think of what you did,

Took my money, impolitely

From the place where it was hid.

Passport, mobile, bank cards, van keys,

Diary - oh you caused affray,

And the books my business lives in

What an end to Dublin day.

Could I but have caught the scoundrel

Could I but have saved the day

Tears and storming could have left me

Happy onwards be my way.

Oh, twas not a joyful people

RDS, we bade you bye,

Scrambled out of office window

Taxied to the port and sighed.

Passengered to terra firma

Met by heroes, Mark and Gregg,

Borrowed car from Alex, travelled

Back to base and slept instead.

2 days phoning, found spare van keys

Giving up not quite my style

(Didn’t think of consequences

Did you, when you stole awhile.)

Though I don’t know why this happened

How and what and when and who

No use tearfully proclaiming

Worlds have ended?  Not so true.

Now I have to travel back to

Dublin’s city fair, afar,

Alex drove me by the dawnlight

And reclaimed her borrowed car.

Now I’m curled up on the ferry

Wild winds whipping here and there

Went on deck to shoot the sea sky

Tossed of mind with tousled hair.

Pool of sunlight tipping wavewards

Falling o’er a windmilled sea

(Would have liked to introduce you

To the waters deep, ah me).

Aye, and if you never would have

If you could have stayed your hand

Wouldn’t be on board this Wednesday

Journeys gone around and round.

Dublin city, writers’ glory,

Wound my way through bustling throng,

Jerry, on the buses, helped me

Told me of his English song;

When he went to Blighty, visit

To his daughter’s family

Couldn’t understand last orders

Had to drink quite hastily:

“You’ll be joking, oh b Jesus

Can I down two pints in one?

Could there be a bomb scare, tell me -

Where have all the people gone?”

Smiling I, through rain swept city

Reunited with my van

At the compound, met Sir Derek

I salute you, Irish man.

All your stories documented

In my scribbled pages, so,

You deserve a wider writing

That I will resolve to show.

(Though you so remind, in looking,

Winsome seeing, have to say,

Eccentricity of manner

Robin Williams, aka.)

And thanks to Matgorzata at

Morehampton Townhouse, open-armed

“Why, hello, it’s you again”

Your breakfasts and your smile both charmed.

Donnybrook, your carrot cake

4 Euros spent on splendid fare,

Like skylines set on fire from ferries

Comfort to one’s soul and care.

No, you didn’t ask permission

Didn’t think on Dublin day

Caused so many journeys taken

Oh, indeed, you caused affray.