Tara of the Kings

The shop sold tat. 
T-shirts with silly slogans 
that sucked air from a room 
and  mugs with Irish names 
made in China. 

Books that told tales of heroes and kings 
manufactured for the tourist trade. 
A parade of Hollywood Irish trite tat. 
Tom Cruise in plus fours and buckled shoes, a leprechaun begob.

Tara stood proud beyond Maguire’s 
but it too had been packaged 
for the foreign market. 
The Lia Fial moved to the hill of kings 
and two Christian crosses on  the site 
lest the Celtic pagans raise 
on Imbolc  night 
and infest the land with pagan rites

Patrick stood guard over it all, 
a Welsh man or a Gaul. Not Irish after all. 
The yanks found that hard 
what with the green robes 
and shamrock and all.

Tara where Irish kings ruled over 
the known lands, where grand 
gatherings where held every four years 
for generations of kings. 

Now just a quick layover 
on a whistle stop rock and roll hope
around the emerald isle 
a facile look at all things green. 

A chance to buy 
book and cups and magazines 
all shipped in from China 
for the busy season.

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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