Give Me A Hanna
By Jonny Ballsac
Some Hannas bear gifts, some Hannas bear grudges,
Some Hannas have fallen and walk round on crutches.
Old Hannas are mean, young Hannas are jolly,
Our Hannas are wet out in the rain with no brolly.
Deaf Hannas hear nothing, sound Hannas hear all,
Blind Hannas are struck by an unseen stray ball.
One Hanna is twitching, one Hanna is lost,
Those Hannas while working were covered in moss
Long Hannas bring good luck, short Hannas bring bad,
Fat Hannas are drooling at the thoughts of kebab.
Thick Hannas are stupid, smart Hannas are too,
Crushed Hannas are stuck to each other by glue.
Red Hannas are bloody, black Hannas are dying.
Back turned is this Hanna as Caulfield lies crying.
Some Hannas are reaching, some Hannas are fists,
Some Hannas are wondering if Hanna exists.
Your Hannas wear black, our Hannas wear white,
His Hannas cause havoc in the darkness of night.
Those Hannas bear fruit, these Hannas bare all,
Dave Hanna sits waiting for Satan to call.
Copyright © 2002; Irish Poetry Explosion. All Rights Reserved.