GET OVER YOURSELVES By Randall Stephen Hall


By Randall Stephen Hall ©



Ah, will you just

Get over yourselves.

Get on with it, make a move

And just do your jobs.

What’s your job description?

To serve the people?

Who are you serving?

Self serving, self service.

Self, self, self.

Your main agenda.

Wrapped up in a silk ribbon

For peace.

Aye right mate, anything you say.

Leaving us out by the ring road.

Bypassed on the way to bloody nowhere.

Ah, would you lot not just

Get over yourselves!

Paid to faff about

with someone else’s money

All that honey and hot air.

To fritter away time with little care.

To kick the cans and rattle the lids.

On and on down the road.

Our view of “youse” is on the skids.

Answering only to some other influence

Spads and others, in the background, unelected, on your mobile

Passing out the orders, spiders and strategy

To those flippin’, feckin’ faffers.

Greedy children with scuffed knees, playing at government.

Spilling our money

And filling their guts

Earning a wage, fat hand over fat fist.

Sucking the tripe out of us like “taking the piss”.

Leaving our bones with no marrow to mention

As the gravy train huffs and puffs

About nothing but intentions.

Burning wood still, in the belly of its boiler.

While the big beast waits on the bench.

Violence, ever ready, with no batteries.

Time for us to get back on the streets I think.

To remind them of their electorate.

Who we are.

Who are we?

Just like the old days when people sought civil rights.

Dignified, focused and with one aim.

To shame these folk into action.

To end this insane joke at Stormont

And all their pillared objections to progress.

Oh, to stick a steel bar amongst their wheels

Their spokes, ever spinning.

Ever spinning the line

That they are acting for peace.

Bad acting.

Them boys and girls.

Puffy eyed and out of shape, for peace.

Out of shape and out of step

With the ordinary working man

And working mother.

Smothered and voiceless

By those great big fat arses, blocking our view

To progress, to peace, and our future.

Would you not just move aside a bit?

There, that’s better.

Northern Eyeland.

The one eyed, mono visioned, never ever land.

Northern Eyeland.

In thrall to the cyclops of politics and the rich.

Northern Eyeland.

Half blinded to the needs of its other self.

Northern Eyeland.

How can each Secretary of State

Never ever say it right?

Why is that?

Ah will you just get over yourselves!

Will you just see yourselves

For what you really are.

Not even a golden shower of Daffodils.

You have no roots, you have no bloom.

You have no seed, you have no colour.

Your only seasonal display in the Spring

Is grey puffy eyed disappointment.

Ah, will you lot just get over yourselves!

3 Responses to GET OVER YOURSELVES By Randall Stephen Hall

  1. michael c March 28, 2017 at 12:04 pm #

    After that sanctimonious rant,maybe you could let us know if previous agreements should be implemented and spare us the”one side is as bad as the other ” platitudes.?

    • Dominic Hendron March 28, 2017 at 12:25 pm #

      Do you never get frustrated michael c?

  2. Randall Stephen Hall March 28, 2017 at 12:29 pm #

    Hi Michael. Maybe yo need to read the poem.

    You seem to have taken some meaning from the writing that isn’t there.

    But thanks anyway.

    Go raibh maith gat.

    Bier bua.