irish breakfast


the morning you woke up to his face in the paper

was the day you packed your valise and flew.

the ira met pearly whites at the gate, you were

stunned, shaking, turned them away

took seven dainty steps across an enameled floor

turned around, curtsied, rushed to the gate


i met you at a pub while you belonged to a dead man

didn't believe in monogamy but it was easy to think

there was no other girl in the world, you know

irish girls are too hot-blooded for me


the morning i woke up to your face on the pillow

was the day i very nearly packed my shit and ran.

motherland's rolling greens stopped me in my tracks, it was

lilac and bramble and the flowers you liked to smell

took eighty nine steps back towards the front door

swore to god i would make it in time


i played you piano while you sang the blues

didn't believe in much of anything until i found you, thought

there was no other girl in the world, you know

american girls got that dainty little waist


the morning we woke up to that terrible storm

was the day you made us both breakfast

irish brogues all year had begun to turn your voice

picked up a lilt i didn't know you could have

took one step forward to sit on my lap

shingles flew off and it took the beams too


oh lord, take me back to kansas; i don't wanna be in this storm no more