Joan Maguire

From the Irish, "Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir." Actually, I have taken the first verse of that song, stuck in the town of Boyle to rhyme with smile, and developed a more  coherent story than in the original Irish song, which is a dialogue between two lovers for whom marriage was not possible because Joan did not have a dowry.

Early this morning I left for the fair in Boyle.

I met a fine lady who threw me a friendly smile.

I sat down beside her to chat for a little while,

And I spent all my money there drinking with Joan Maguire.


O, Joan Maguire, you’ve ruined my life, you bitch.

You captured my heart, yet yielded me ne’er a kiss.

When I was spendin’ your attention was warm and rich;

When my pocket was empty, I found I was promptly ditched.


Now here I am in this town of Boyle forlorn,

Feeling so foolish, I wish that I ne’er was born.

Can’t do my duty: my money is spent and gone.

When I try to stand up, I’m so drunk that again I fall.


My curse on this town with its women so wild and free.

My curse on the townies who trick country boys like me.

My curse on my parents for rearing such a blithering fool,

And my twenty five curses upon my misguided tool.


O, Joan Maguire, I dream of you day and night,

Your friendly smile, your eyes sparkling with delight.

Though you’re a rogue, I long for your soft caress,

My arms to enfold you and hold you close to my breast.


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