During a recent tidying up we found this manuscript fragment by the late unsung Dublin poet T. S. McGelligott who died in 1908. We believe his work may have circulated in manuscript from among the Symbolists. The Editorial Board of The Definitive Indefinite Article felt it would be appropriate to share this before April is out.
The Waste Ground
By T. S. McElligott
- The Burial in the Shed
April is the cruellest mott, breathing
Rothmans all over the gaff, mixing
Smirnoff and Cointreau, dyeing
Brown roots with “Spring Rain.”®
Super Ser kept us warm, covering
Earth in headacheful fog, feeding
A Jack Russell with dried raisins.
Assumpta surprised us, coming over the other Sunday
With a shower of lads; we stopped in the head shop,
And went on in sunlight, into the Brewgarten,
And drank pints, and talked for an hour.
Tá sé mahogany gaspipe feasta gan adhmad man
And when we were youngflas, scutting on the bread vans,
My cousin, he took me out on a Honda 50,
And I was frightened. He said, Maire,
Maire, hold on tight. And down we went.
In Tamangos, there you feel free.
I walk, much of the night, finally get a cab on Dorset Street.