THE CUSTARD PIE

(By Frank Conry)

She did not wear a blouse of blue
On that we all agree
When she ambushed Michael Noonan
Near the shores of sweet Loch Key.

Chorus

There is no need to wonder
Or ask the question why
'Cause the hand that rocks the cradle
Was the hand that threw the pie!

With tip toe step and beating heart
Quite softly she drew nigh
With mischief on her feline face
In her hand - a custard pie.

Just like the Celtic Tiger
She stalked her herd that day
And showed no signs of mercy
As she singled out her prey.

Chorus

It was early on that morning
She milked her patient cow
Saying I will and I must get Noonan
For the humour is on me now

She clawed her way through suits of grey
With eyes fixed on his dial
Then covered him with custard
And wiped away his smile.

The three wise men had seen the kill
And swore that she must go
To the bogs below Belmullet
In the County of Mayo.

Chorus

There is no need to wonder
Or ask the question why
'Cause the hand that rocks the cradle
Was the hand that threw the pie!

---

(To the air of: "The Humour is on me Now") In memory of the "Custard Pie Thrower", Boyle 2002
*Photo in Rosc.H. showed three men with Michael Noonan. "Rosc.Herald" did not print this - given to them one week before the election. (May,2002) It's only a laugh - but the Herald must have thought that it was not P.C.