To my Brother, I beat you!
Written passing Kenmare; Ireland -on holiday

A flash of red bunting, the scent of
fresh bread
The craic of the locals, as they crawl
out of bed
 
The rumble of laughter, Guinness on
lips
The giggles of children, as they take
little sips
 
Here in Kenmare, when the town life is
vast
you’d better not get there, and find that
you’re last
through the stout and the burgers, the
cakes and the hare
there’s really no better, place than the
fair
 
The rhythm of the bass, the drumming
of the beats
the rustle of the crowd, as they all take
their seats
 
The cheering of youngsters, the sizzle in
the pan
the sighing of mothers, as they top up
their tan
 
The fair is a place, where you can
go and have fun
where kids can be free, and play in the
sun
An attraction for all, ages and types
here in Kenmare, its what everyone
likes!

(2012)

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