Both Sides. Poem by Matt Mooney

She was from West Belfast she said:
On a high stool in a pub on a corner
Playing free the spoons on her knee,
As we blasted away across from her.

A tall hefty man was drinking a pint-
He sounded like he was a Northern;
We gave him Eamon's pair of bones
For he wanted to play along with us.

He told me that he was East Belfast,
At home he was a Lambeg Drummer;
But on trying a beat on my bodhrán
He said it was too small in diameter!

His drum is goatskin three feet wide,
Twice the size of its bodhrán brother;
You beat both sides and as it's played
You'd be sure it was peals of thunder.

About the All Ireland Fleadh in Derry,
He'd not take a Lambeg there he said:
Sure they might not like his drumming-
So roll on the Apprentice Boys Parade.

Before he left to go he got up to talk
To the Belfast lady up at the counter;
She told me quietly they got on better
Whenever they are south of the border.