The Ballad Of The Child Of Prague

Once upon a time in the Eastern Bloc
There lived a child most hallowed
Who brought light where there was darkness
Who grew crops where fields were fallow.

His face smooth and angelic
Sweetened by his rosy cheeks
But don’t be fooled by his appearance
For the child was far from meek.

He was small but he was mighty
Yes, the child packed quite a punch
While two raised fingers brought peace and love
Five clenched did make a bunch.

Woe betide any man who scorned him
For the child was well-connected
His devotees were heaped with blessings
Grief consumed men who rejected.

He was sitting all alone one night
When the world was fast asleep
His ears perked up when his iPhone 5
Began to buzz and beep.

A text from his boss Benedict
On his holy throne in Rome
Said “pack your bags for Ireland,
You’re heading off across the foam”.

A cynic might have objected
But he knew how his bread was buttered
The order came from on high, away he did fly –
Not a word did the child mutter.

Life can be so cruel at times
And innocents get slaughtered
Yet with a happy heart he made a start
And headed west across the water.

Yes, a handsome holy chappy
Came west from his native east
A credit to his species
More sacred than a priest

An infant coming from the east
With a cute angelic smile
I thought my eyes deceived me
I was swimming in denial

Getting off the bus in Galway
Half-starved and mute with thirst
The child rambled down to Naughton’s
where his blessed life got worse

He sunk a pint of Guinness
Then another - and many more
His eyes rolled around their sockets
He could barely see the floor

That is until he staggered off
His belly for to fill
He did justice to a snackbox
But soon felt a little ill

Down an alleyway he took a piss
But fell into the lion’s den
Attacked by a gang of hoodlums
Out-numbered one to ten.

In the wrong place at the wrong time
the child fell in the dirt
Covered head to toe in blood and guts
Like a baby after birth.

It was then The Big Man intervened,
the assailants quickly fled
but the poor Child Of Prague lay prone on the ground
as his wounds they ached and bled.

Then stumbling towards a taxi rank
His robes in disarray
Blood upon his collar
In the breeze the child did sway

In the queue he met a happy chap
A disciple most devoted
Dressed to kill in multicolour,
Accessorised and sequin-coated.

A Raphaelite angel
Head full of luscious curls
A lad to all the fellas
A gent to all the girls

Even the Gods need help at times
Yes, this saintly human crutch
Took pity on the Child of Prague
And saved him with his touch.

I always try to be objective
But maybe now I’m biased
Never once in this cruel world of ours
Has there been a child as pious.

Once upon a time in the Eastern Bloc
There lived a child most hallowed
Who brought love to the cold-hearted
Who brought depth to waters shallow.