I long to visit the cool arctic before it melts
Away in a heat wave that inspires fascist dolts.
The end of the world is coming faster than you think
In a flood of stupidity that will drown the quick.
Unless you can learn the Irish heel and toe it
And drink from the crystal cup of the beloved.
Aye, we can dance and sing as the world retires,
And celebrate the sweet song that never expires.
Let us the people sing a song of longing love
For the beauty that endures as the world dissolves.
Love will rise and sing as flowers of pure liberty
From the heat of heartless and fascist tyranny.
When tears of ice at last flow down Darvish’s face,
The Master will bless his song with coolest grace.
