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About Limerick

So, I see her, leanin’ on some grimy lamppost, smokin’ a cig, skirt shorter than my tractor’s gearshift. I’m like, “Shagadelic!” She’s got this look, y’know, like she’s seen it all – pimps, johns, cops – and she’s still kickin’. Made me happy, man, ‘cause she’s a fighter, not takin’ no crap. But then, I got pissed, ‘cause some sleazy dude rolled up, actin’ all big, and I’m like, “Oh, behave!” – why’s she gotta deal with that?

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So, I finally get to my shop on the Ballygall Rd. and it’s a mess. Furs everywhere! I’m talkin’ like a fur explosion. I trip over a fox pelt and nearly faceplant. Classic me, right? I start sorting through the chaos, and then my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “You comin’ to the pub later?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m knee-deep in fur here!” But I can’t resist a pint, so I say maybe.

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