Website was Born on 7th August 2011, last evolved 23rd October 2015

This is a tribute to a friend of my sons, Wee John. He and I met over a glass of champagne. His name has been changed so that you don't know who I'm writing about, and so he can't sue me.

Those of you familiar with the 60's hit record 'Big John', a talkie by Jimmy Dean, may recite the words in an American accent if you wish.



WEE JOHN



Every night at the pub you would see him arrive.

He stood five foot six, and weighed one twenty-five.

Kinda broad at the waistline, and narrow at the eyes;

and when he walks in, everybody sighs.

He doesn't drink much, kinda crafty and sly.

But if you were buying he would drink the place dry.



Wee John



Some say in Derry he was bred.

Others say Warrington was where he was fed.

He lived for a while in Wexford town,

but the damage was done, couldn't live it down.



Wee John. Wee John. Wee English John.



Then came the day of the Heineken Cup.

He was sat in the bar enjoying a sup.

When the Irish team won he was oh so proud.

Managed to get himself in with a crowd

of Irish supporters who, filled with much beer,

said, "Oi, English, piss off, you're not welcome here."



Wee John



"But I'm not English", he said with a sob.

A woman of eighty said, "Just shut your gob."

And a glancing blow from her tiny hand

sent a wee English fella to the promised land.



Wee John



Well, they still kept open that wonderful pub,

but they've made a change to their list of grub.

The 'Full English' breakfast entry has gone.

All you have to say now is, "I'll have the Wee John."



Wee John. Wee John. Wee English John.



RIP



David Myles 2010






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