Tonight I went out to a book reading
By the author of Angela's Ashes
Frank McCourt by name. He'd just come flying
In from New York to talk of the wishes
His mother (Angela) had had. Riches
For five surviving kids - two had died young -
That couldn't be found where the rain lashes
Down on all Irish heads, by hellfire stung
Both in life and in death. The changes rung,
Atlantic crossing, Frank discussed teaching
Surprising his coarse siblings, caused splashes
Of beer on their moustaches. But he hung
In there, and found his tales were interesting
As he talked to New York's kids in classes
Wed 7 Nov 2007
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