Ode To Flutterin' Bantam

(The first in an occasional series of sonnets in honour of my boards heroes.)

ODE TO FLUTTERIN' BANTAM

The gloom of night was falling like a phantom,
Its doomy fist had clutched my inmost soul,
When from the mist there rose a Flutterin' Bantam
To pull my bleak life out of its dark hole.

Dark hole! I feel him in that very image,
Tensed, straining at the bars that sadness brings,
As drunks caught short in alleyways in Kimmage
Squirt out the scutter from their roguish rings,

As constipated Belfast textile workers
Plop out their little pebbles on the Strand,
So Flutterin' Bantam cheers the hearts of lurkers
With every inky gem squeezed from his hand.

O Bantam, flutter on, squeeze out your soul,
And crust with gladness life's great gleaming bowl!