When I was a young apprentice
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and less than compos mentis
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I took leave of all my senses
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with a maid I fell in love.
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Her ringlets so entwined me
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Aphrodite's smile did blind me
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Cupid's arrow struck behind me
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and her father owned a pub.
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It was there I met my nemesis
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in her father's licensed premises
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Like the Seraphim of Genesis
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sat Mary Anne Maguire.
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Arrayed in fine apparel
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astride a porter barrel
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She looked the kind of girl that
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would fill you with desire.
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All the turtle doves were cooing
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as I took to my wooing
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Her Loveliness pursuing
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in the springtime of that year.
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But she thought I should be older
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and more gallant and much bolder
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In the uniform of a soldier
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'tis then she'd hold me dear.
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In extremis and euphoria
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I joined with Queen Victoria
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For a spell of death or gloria
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a-fighting with the Boers.
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To the wind I threw all caution
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I'll return with fame and fortune
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And together make a portion
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of matrimony's chores.
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On the gravestone of her mother
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she swore she loved no other
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But I was to soon discover
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that she played me for a berk.
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For lady-luck had beached me
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and intelligence had reached me
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Whilst I'd been overseas she
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had married to a Turk.
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Well me, I then deserted
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for to find the girl who'd flirted
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Back to Ireland I reverted
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for my jealously was roused.
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In Maguire's Pub in Derry
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I found him making merry
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With his arms around my Mary
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as together they caroused.
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So I took my time and waited
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until his thirst was sated
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And home he navigated
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through the streets of Derry town.
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At his lodgins he stood knocking
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and whilst they were unlocking
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I put a stone into a stocking
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on his head I brought it down.
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'Twas then the night's serenity
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was rent with loud obscenity
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And Ottoman profanity
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that I couldn't understand.
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With an oath he made to grab me
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with full intent to stab me
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But as he tried to kebab me
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I was screaming up the strand.
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All around the town's perimeter
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he chased me with his scimitar
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A powerful passion limiter
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to an errant in his pride.
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Through the waterside he chased me
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to the Bridge of Foyle he raced me
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And at Derry Quay he faced me
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so I jumped into the tide.
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Sure bravery's no virtue
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when some heathen's trying to hurt you
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And all noble thoughts desert you
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when you see his curly knife.
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For there's many things worth trying for
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and occasionally worth lying for
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But there's bugger-all worth dying for
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so I'll stick to the soldier's life.
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-----------------
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The Errant Apprentice
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| Andy M. Stewart |
