I Watched her Walk Away

By Eamonn McNally

As I was out walking in Corry’s Field, whistling a merry tune,

A young one in her fifties whizzed past me in full bloom.

Who was that beautiful girl, I thought, out on this lovely day

With her slender hips, and her wobbly arse, leading my mind astray.

I thought, if I walk faster and quickened up my pace,

Slip across the shortcut, I’d meet her face to face.

So I headed towards the bushes, and straightened up my tie,

Buttoned up my waistcoat, to look good as she passed by.

I could see her coming towards me; her hair was loose and fair,

The tattoo on her naval, showed a butterfly in mid air.

Then she moved in close, there was something about her eyes,

Something about that twinkle, I thought I recognised.

“What’s a pretty girl like you, doing out here all alone?

Are you looking for your boyfriend, or can I escort you home?

Then she started giggling, like there was something I should know,

“Do you not recognise me, Mac,” she said. “I’m your old friend Joe”

“Joe,” I said, “What have you done? Was the operation sore?”

“A sex change, Joe, at your age. Does it mean I wont have to listen to your poetry anymore?

You know, up close he didn’t look too bad, though one breast was out of twist.

If I didn’t know him the way I do, I’d have sworn the guy was pissed.

Then I had to ask the question. It was difficult, I suppose.

It’s a question that’s often asked. What did he do with his old clothes?

Now the moral of the story is: when your friends are led astray,

You can always turn the blind eye, or simply walk away.