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

  1. 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.