RAY COLLINS
Who the *#"* is Ray Collins???

i am a belfast punter ray collins is my name
i’ve travelled throughtout this world in search of fame and gain
been down and out in london in paris and in rome
but come the day i’ve always found a way to get myself back home

i terrorized my teachers y’know i broke their hearts and minds
forgot to do my homework and never turned up on time
but it wasnae me blew up the science labs though i disrupted all their plans
and i made them squirm at every turn 'cause i passed all my exams

we chanced our arms in the darkness of the picture-houses way back then
the arcadia the clonard the alhambra and the diamond
but there are no more strong programmes nor balconies nor stalls
just a lone movie on a wee screen in a gleaming shopping mall

we jived away our youth y'know till the dance halls met their doom
romanos and the plaza the maritime and boom boom rooms
bought cheap guitars in smithfield long since burnt down and gone
then had to hock them in the pawnshops for no more than a song

i've drunk cheap wine 'n' scrumpy with my crazy mad-dog friends
been comatose and nearly froze yet came back to life again
long week-ends got longer start 'n' finish were the same
conspicuous consumption became the name of the game

wild sessions in the auld house pat's bar and kelly's cellars
jam-packed airless rowdy smokey beer-soaked bars
raucous argy-bargy wine women and song
caught in crossfire running riots dodgin' bullets dodgin' bombs

so i'll raise a glass to belfast a great wee northern town
to hell with the begrudgers and all those other useless clowns
here's a toast to belfast its warmth its pride its joy
here's to all the punters
men and women
girls and boys

where are you now my friends
through all the laughter tears and pain
most are dead all are gone
will we ever meet again?
will we ever
meet again?

in belfast town

in belfast town
i was born
in the jubilee ward
of a mid-march morn
to an existence
where the pains of love
greet cold huddled houses
in sleet drenched streets

the ballyhoo bark of scabby dogs
heralds a new dawn
a pot of thick sweet tea
bread 'n' drippin'
slimy blistered eggs
in a pan of black speckled grease
the racing form digested
a dole cheque
cigarettes
gee-gees and pints
the new day old already

deathly
night descends
on suspicious day's
nervous watch
unbiased
it entombs
the falls, the shankill
andytown and finaghy
the markets
the 'murph
the village
the 'row
the bone
and tiger bay

 

as published in the New York Quarterly issue #61