““A city built upon mud; A culture built upon profit; Free speech nipped in the bud, The minority always guilty. Why should I want to go back To you, Ireland, my Ireland? ... Her mountains are still blue, her rivers flow Bubbling over the boulders. She is both a bore and a bitch; Better close the horizon, Send her no more fantasy, no more longings which Are under a fatal tariff. For common sense is the vogue And she gives her children neither sense nor money Who slouch around the world with a gesture and a brogue And a faggot of useless memories.””
