Oh, there’s long night up ahead, I think,
While I know in my head it’ll be a short one.
I watch the window and hear the reverberating of
Collegiate Irishmen, or wanna-be Irishmen,
Parading and prancing through the streets,
Through the conventions of higher learning,
The “establishment”, the “system”, the “institution”,
As if the establishment is out to halt their
Pretending-to-be-Irish, like it’s a secret, a disguise
They wear and are ashamed of admitting, a self
They wish they could shun for just one night, like a
Superhero without his mask or a cape to fly with;
One would then think that they would try to act like
Those they admire or pretend to be so fervently.
I don’t mind the insecurities brought about by a
Partial heritage to an island in the Atlantic, but I know
It’ll be a short night as soon as I manage to sleep
Away the disturbances from those damn Irishmen
Because I have a Spanish exam in the morrow, and
Have no desire to fail it for a few drinks and
A plate of corned beef and cabbage on the side.