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A NIGHT ON THE STREET

Within the town of Sligo
Is a hostel on a hill.
Insofar as I know
It is operating still.
The look of it is splendid
With the ivy on its walls,
But I wouldn’t recommend it,
Not at all.

The partying was rowdy
And it lasted all night long.
They played the music loudly
And the smoke was much too strong.
The beer and whiskey stunk
And too much had been consumed,
And a man had passed out, drunk,
In my room.

I will not say what happened next;
Such words are not polite.
A puppy would be put outside
For what he did that night,
But they let him sleep it off,
And the owner said to me,
That if I did not like it
I could leave.

We packed up very quickly,
Got our money back and more,
And descended very briskly
Down the stairs and out the door.
It was far too late at night
To find a room we could afford.
Who else could we turn to
But the Lord?

We came unto a church
Built of stone in days of old.
The priest turned on the light
And saw us shivering in the cold.
He crossed himself and turned his back
And left us in the dark.
I sang: “I Want to Be a Christian
In My Heart.”

The owner of the hostel
I forgive this very minute;
But some who preach the gospel
Do not practice what is in it.
For Jesus said: What you have done
Unto the least of these,
My brethren, you have done it
Unto me.

Limerick, Ireland, 2001