Category Archives: Personal

Don’t Know

I don’t know what I’m doing when I write these lines.

I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.

I do it for something to do. For you.

Tich Ennis

3rd April, 2018

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Two Trick Pony

I am a two trick pony, I sing and write.

No one knows but I won’t give up without a fight.

See you when day takes over night.

Tich Ennis

22nd March, 2018

Rich And Famous

If I became rich and famous might I become obnoxious, I asked a friend, he said do you mean more obnoxious than you are?

I don’t own a car.

God may be sparing me for something, but what the Hell?

Oh well.

Fame has not gone to my head, I have obscurity instead.

Its not hard to be humble when no one knows you’re there.

Ask me, see if I care.

Could I possibly stand up to fame?

You don’t know my name.

I am honest, I am poor.

May the truth endure.

Tich Ennis

7th February, 2018

Late

I’ve left it rather late to do anything at all.

I like writing most of all.

So I write, that’s what I do.

Do I sound anything like you?

I thought I couldn’t do it, now I don’t care.

I feel, the words are there.

I’m old, shall my story be told?

The most boring subject is oneself, that book stays on the shelf.

Everyone’s life is interesting, so I heard.

I believe in the word.

I wanted to write when young, and did some, sometimes I bit my tongue.

Don’t want to be, just do.

An old man’s advice to you.

Tich Ennis

17th January, 2018

Big Fool

May I not let people down with a bump or otherwise.

I let myself down bigtime since I fell from the skies.

You may say by what airline did I fly when I fell from the sky?

The same as you, how do you do, I broke a heart or promise two.

Or maybe more, encore, encore, most of my life was a waste of time.

Ten years ago I took up rhyme.

There is no point in telling lies, I wish to regain the skies.

All aboard, we take off soon, this flight passes by the Moon.

Then back to Earth, let down again, when we have peace between men.

Fellow travellers, let it be, your pilot is a fool like me.

Bloody history leave behind out of sight and out of mind.

It is not easy but its true you and I know what to do.

I mean every word I say, what can I say?

Have a nice day. Better, make a good day, not nice.

Follow your own advice.

Trust your heart, you know what to do and how to be.

Don’t leave it all to me.

Why can’t we agree?

If we did less people would be dead.

That’s what I said.

Life means something when we want it to.

Its up to me and you.

Who goes first, best or worst?

At least I try before I die.

Wars happen, why?

Is my heart in the right place?

Be in a state of grace.

End disgrace, human race.

I am the clown who does not want to let you down.

A clown is for fun and laughter.

And happy ever after.

Peace and love are not just words, they are how to be.

I ask myself am I the biggest fool?

That’s me.

Tich Ennis

11th January, 2018

Ireland’s Own

To see my face in Ireland’s Own, will I make Rolling Stone?

If the media won’t come to me must I come to thee?

Wait and see.

A wealthy patron would suit me well, not a penniless beggar, what the Hell?

I am my patron, who my fan, maybe you, merely a man.

Oul’ wans and ould lads like my stuff, my edges may be rather rough.

We all get old, time passes by, another year, don’t make me cry.

So then my face is not unknown.

Throw this raggy dog a bone.

Tich Ennis

1st January, 2017

Ballbreaker

God keeps kicking me in the balls or is it the other fellow?

Have I a streak down my back of vivid yellow?

I never really expect anything much, I sure don’t get it.

I lay in bed as a child and wet it.

Now in later life I have no wife.

If I had how would she put up with me?

Patron saint of lost causes, rescue me.

Some few like what I do.

Do you?

A lonely soul struggling to be true.

I apologise for using a coarse word.

Its not the worst I ever heard.

That word is synonymous with bravery.

I’ll have a cup of tea.

Should I end here or say so many promises are broken?

I speak a truth unspoken.

Where is Hoboken?

I do my best all the time.

Am I guilty of a crime?

Kafka instructed that all his work be burned.

I am the worm who turned.

No, I don’t want my stuff to go up in smoke.

I don’t want my life to be a dirty joke.

Self-pity is despicable, I know that too.

I’ll get over it, will you?

Believe me I pity all of you.

I have more or less run out of tears in my advanced years.

Against all odds I have one more thing to say, to turn night into day.

This dope has hope.

Tich Ennis

10th December, 2017